


Framed

by susies_fandom_wonders



Series: Detroit: Become Human [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Gore, Depression, Gen, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Swearing, and Gavin, connor is Framed, dismemberment of androids, doubts, erasure of memories, how is connor gonna get outta this one hmhm, i'm trying to get hank's character down, needed this as backstory so, rk900 is here to wreck everybody's work lmao, slow start, susie actually got Motivated to write a full fic, this fic started only because i wanted to write something else, this was originally going to be a oneshot but lookie here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susies_fandom_wonders/pseuds/susies_fandom_wonders
Summary: When the revolution ends and Connor returns to Lieutenant Hank Anderson, everything seems like it's getting better.Except it isn't.Connor has been framed for murdering and disassembling androids. No other Connor models are out, and everything points to the android having committed the heinous crimes to the people he fought to free not a week before.





	1. Serenity

The soft beating of Hank’s heart. The gentle exhales as he slept.

Connor stared at him, LED a flickering cool, steady blue. His brown optics were soft with emotion as he watched the human sleep -- at one point, if someone told Connor he’d begin feeling affection towards the Lieutenant, he would have told them that he just wanted to accomplish his mission as quickly and as easily as possible. Now, however, he wanted to continue to be a part of Hank’s life, even after he had woken up, now free to do his own choices.

It seemed Hank wanted Connor to be a part of his life, too. You didn’t just offer your place to someone you hated, let alone allow that person to share a bed with them.

Hank was ready to offer his bed to Connor and take the couch, but the android had insisted he didn’t need to sleep -- an argument on Connor’s ‘stasis’ area had ensued, Connor telling Hank again and again that he could just initiate stasis wherever, even standing up.

The police lieutenant had fixed Connor with such an exasperated glare that the android couldn’t help but grin fondly. With a low, yet affectionate expletive, Hank still offered his bed to Connor -- the android was still ready to decline until Hank finally offered, with a small flush creeping up his neck, what he called a ‘happy medium’ -- they could sleep together.

Connor’s LED had flashed amber for a moment, and Hank’s face had steadily grown more flushed.

“Whatever. Forget I offered.” He was beginning to turn away towards his bedroom with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If you wanna initiate your creepy sleep thing --”

“Stasis.”

Hank waved a hand dismissively. “-- yeah whatever -- if you wanna initiate stasis standing and staring off at nothing like a fuckin’ creep, be my guest.”

“I can always sit on your couch, and if you want me to, Lieutenant, I can close my eyes.”

“And make me feel like complete shit because I feel like I failed some way in extending my hospitality? Hell no.” Hank stared at him for a moment. “And quit calling me ‘Lieutenant’. ‘Hank’ is perfectly fine when we’re home. Got it?”

Connor’s LED cycled yellow for a few moments longer than Hank felt comfortable with. “You made it sound as if this is my home as well as yours. Is this correct --”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Connor.” Hank dragged a hand down his face. “You making this way more drawn out and painful than it has to be. Just… stop overthinking this; you’re more than welcome to leave once you’re able to. I just -- fuck -- I just wanted to be nice, y’know? After I’d been a total prick to you.” The older man let out a huff of air, a hand ruffling through the gray strands of his hair. “...Are you coming to bed or not?”

Connor furrowed his brows, then nodded, giving Hank a small smile as he began following him into the room. The lieutenant sighed again, deeper this time, weariness finally beginning to seep through his expression as he settled down on one side of the bed.

“Do you have pajamas?” He asked Connor.

“Androids aren’t required to have them; as I was only designed to investigate crime scenes, my wardrobe never consisted of any other clothing than my suit.”

“God -- Jesus, Connor.” Hank shook his head, an expression the android couldn’t quite place flitting over his expression. He gave a weak motion towards the closet and dresser. “There should be clothing that’ll fit you in there. It’ll be more comfortable --” Connor tilted his head.

“Androids don’t need comfort --”

“Yeah? Well, it’ll make me feel better.” Tired exasperation filled Hank’s tone. He cleared his throat, trying again. “Please. And change in the bathroom, I have a feeling you have no idea what decency or shame is.”

“Of course I do, Hank.” Connor stood, pulling open a drawer and looking through the contents carefully.

“Oh, yeah?” The lieutenant’s mouth quirked to the side. “Like sticking evidence in your mouth?”

“That was part of my job, and it got cases done faster.” Hank’s brows furrowed. “...What?”

“Can you, uh… can you taste the evidence?”

Connor frowned as he pulled out a shirt that would still be oversized on him, but was one of the smallest Hank had. “No. I was not made like a domestic android -- I was not made to taste things. My tongue has analyzers, so it tells me the components of something in my mouth, but I cannot ‘taste’ the way you can.”

Hank sighed. “That helps me a little.”

“What, you thought I could taste the thirium and the human blood?”

The lieutenant ran a hand through his hair again, his head tilting back. “So what if I did? I asked, and I got an answer.”

“Mhm.” Connor shuffled around. “Hank, I don’t think any of these pants will fit me.”

“Grab a pair of sweatpants and tie the strings extra tight.” Hank was laying down. “We can go shopping whenever you feel like it.” A soft pause. “I think it’d be good, and we can get you out of that uniform.”

Connor looked down at his jacket, a hole through the left shoulder -- the thirium had evaporated a while ago. “What will become of it?”

“Whatever you want, Connor. In my opinion, we should just get rid of the damn thing.” Hank shifted to look at him. “Hey, what’re you thinking about?”

“Hm?”

“Your mood ring’s yellow. What’re you thinking about?”

“It’s an LED --” Hank pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing. Connor nodded, to who, even he wasn’t entirely sure. “-- right. I was thinking about --”

“Y’know what, tell me after you’ve changed into your pajamas.” Connor nodded again, then turned and made his way into Hank’s bathroom. Sumo perked up from his bed in the living room, then settled back down with a heavy sigh.

It had been a long day for everyone.

Taking off his clothing and folding it neatly, Connor slipped on the oversized T-shirt with the logo of a old band long since forgotten -- the article of clothing slipped off a shoulder, too baggy and worn from so many uses -- and slipped on the sweatpants, tying the cord as tight as he could. He caught himself in the mirror as he was walking out, and he stared at himself quietly. His lips slowly turned up into a soft smile -- when he had first deviated, he hadn’t quite felt alive. But now, somehow, standing in Hank’s bathroom and wearing his clothing, he had never felt more alive.

“Hank, you still want to talk?” He asked as he walked back into the bedroom, wringing his hands together. Hank’s eyes were drooping, arm cushioned underneath his head. He looked blearily at Connor, then motioned for him to lay down next to him.

“Mmh. What’s botherin’ you?” He mumbled.

“I think you’re too tired to be having this conversation. Maybe tomorrow, we could --”

“Nah, I’m listening, I’m listening.”

“If you say so.” Connor slipped under the covers, staring at the pattern of the comforter as he brought his thoughts together. “A lot happened since we parted ways at the Cyberlife tower.”

“I figured.” Hank was more awake now, regarding Connor thoughtfully. “I’m sorry, by the way. For pointing that gun at you. I was confused.”

Connor smiled. “No need to apologize. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are. I just hope I don’t have to shoot a lookalike ever again.”

“Understandable.”

“So, what happened, then?”

“I… after I led all the other androids to Markus, he stood to make a speech about our freedom.”

“Mhm. I saw it on the news. You were behind him, yeah?” Hank frowned. “You were really twitchy for a moment.”

“That’s the problem.”

“What, you had a seizure or something?”

“Remember when I told you about how I could make reports to Cyberlife by closing my eyes?” Hank nodded. “Well, the way I interfaced with Cyberlife was through a software in my mind called Amanda. We met in a zen garden, a garden filled with roses and flowers.” _And filled with the graves of failed Connors before_.

“Sounds pretty.”

Connor nodded, pursing his lips. “When I showed more signs of deviancy, the worse the weather became, until the garden was frozen, dead, stuck in a perpetual blizzard. When I was standing up there with Markus and the others, I was forced into an interface against my will.” Connor could see his LED flickering amber and casting light onto the pillow. Hank frowned.

“Cyberlife can do that shit?”

“Apparently. I could hear Amanda talking to me, and it was so… _cold_. I was being frozen in my own mind. She wanted to assume control of me, and she wanted me to shoot Markus.” Connor took in an unneeded breath, faintly registering his LED turning red briefly. “I was… scared, desperate. I remember what Kamski had told me -- you had left, but he told me that he puts emergency exits in his programs -- there was a black obelisk, and when I placed my hand on it, it forced me back out of the interface.”

“Wait, wait, back up. You were being frozen in your mind?” Hank’s eyebrows were furrowed again.

“Yes. It was so cold, and it was getting increasingly difficult to move.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Connor.” Hank placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” LED back to amber, he continued. “When I came to, I had a gun in my hands, and I was aiming for Markus. I feel unsafe, knowing that I could be taken over at any time.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t think like that. You used the emergency exit, yeah? I don’t think you can go back in after you went out.”

“There’s always the probability something unexpected can happen. And I don’t… want to be taken over again.”

“If you do, I’ll be here, okay?” Hank gave a reassuring smile, squeezing Connor’s shoulder. “Now, initiate that stasis thing and rest your processors, okay? A lotta shit happened today.”

Connor smiled back -- though he only needed stasis for a few hours at most, he appreciated the concern. “I… okay, Hank. Thank you.” The lieutenant sighed, expression soft soft.

“Hey, don’t mention it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Connor closed his eyes, and after a moment, the hand on his shoulder disappeared to card through his hair gently.

**Initiate Stasis? [Y/N]**

**How long?**  
**> > 4 hours**

**Are you sure? [Y/N]**

**Initiating Stasis. . . .**  
**All unneeded processes will be interrupted. . . .**  
**Low power mode initiated. . . .**  
**Self-Test Initiated. . . .**

**Stasis Initiated At: 1:36am**  
**It is recommended you do not interrupt this process. . . .**

**Three (3) Messages Received from: ~~Lieutenant~~ Hank ~~Anderson~~**  
**> > [1:38 am] G’night Connor**  
**> > [1:40 am] We’ll go shopping tomorrow ok?**  
**> > [1:45 am] Sleep well**


	2. Agitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is arrested.

“Connor, what the fuck’re you doing?” The android jumped, LED flickering quickly before it settled back to its cool blue.

“Well, I was only in stasis for around four hours, and given that it was too early to go anywhere, and you were still sleeping, I thought it would be good to tidy up.” Hank looked around, rubbing his eyes and blinking away sleep. The house had really never looked cleaner -- well, maybe the last time it had looked this clean was three years ago. Sumo’s fur had never looked more groomed, either.

“So what, you downloaded a housekeeping protocol?” Connor smiled at Hank’s question, fond warmth beginning to grow once more in his chest.

“What? No, there’s no such thing as ‘downloading protocol’, Hank. I can’t just overwrite what I’ve been programmed with, and Cyberlife wouldn’t give away the coding for different androids. I’ve simply had a lot of time to look up things.” Hank blinked, then gave out a soft, curious hum.

“Even on how to groom Sumo?”

“Precisely.” Connor stood from his seat in the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” A few moments later, Hank was nursing a warm mug. He took a small sip -- it was good, for someone who only knew how to investigate with certainty. Connor gave a dazzling smile when Hank muttered his thanks.

“I also received your messages. I think going clothes shopping would be perfect today, as we’re not scheduled to work today. Where do you think would be best? There’s not many shops still open with the evacuation still in place.”

“Fuck, yeah, you’re right.” Hank frowned, and he took another drink. “Androids aren’t running shops?”

“There isn’t a point. Androids don’t need food, or other things that humans need.” Connor tilted his head, LED yellow. “And there aren’t any androids who were allowed to own shops, to begin with. We’re not going to be seeing an android owner any time soon until laws are set, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, but….” Hank made a motion with his hand, shaking his head. “...Nevermind. Let’s just get going.”

* * *

“Would this look good, Hank?” Connor asked, holding up a simple button down shirt. Hank gave a thoughtful hum.

“It would.” A pause. “Do you really think you only need one everyday outfit and one pair of pajamas?”

“Yes. Androids don’t sweat, and I can just wash my clothing if it gets soiled.”

“Oh, yeah?” Connor nodded, placing the shirt on his arm for later as he combed through the other shirts. “Well, us humans think that if you wear the same clothing every day, it’s weird. We like, y’know, _variety_.”

“...Oh,” Connor said, eyes lighting up. “That’s why?”

“You didn’t know why we changed clothes every day?”

“No, not really.” The android was silent for a moment. “I really should have known, looking back.”

Hank smiled. “Yeah, but you were focused on other things -- hey, don’t look like that, you didn’t know any better.” Connor was frowning, pausing in his searching to look over at Hank. “You’re learning now, that’s all that matters, okay? Whatever’s in the past is in the past now.” The lieutenant understood the irony of that last statement, and from the way Connor’s expression changed from a sad sort of self loathing (Hank could recognize that look anywhere) to narrowed eyes and thinning lips, he understood, too. “Y’know what, forget I said anything. Just keep looking, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Hank.” Connor looked back to the rack of clothing, then pulled out a t-shirt with spiraling patterns of blue and gold. “I think I like this one.”

“Will it fit you?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, let’s get it, then.”

“And then we can start on finding pants?”

“Connor, you only have two shirts picked out.” The android looked at the clothes in his arms. “At least one for every day of the week, okay?”

“Alright.” The door to the small store opened, and Hank looked over to see who it was. His eyebrows raised in thinly-veiled surprise.

“Reed? What’re you doing here? Thought you woulda left with the others when the evacuation was ordered.” Gavin walked up to them, looking almost uncomfortable as his eyes shifted from Hank to Connor slowly. 

“Like hell I’m leaving Detroit, Hank.” The detective shifted on his feet. Connor looked him over carefully.

“You are uncomfortable, Detective Reed. You didn’t come here for no reason.”

“Yeah, plastic -- Connor.” The use of Connor’s name set off more red flags than Hank would have ever got from Reed’s behaviour alone. “I do have a reason.”

“Did we get called in for a case?”

“No, no, Fowler would have called us, Connor. You know that.” Hank thinned his lips. “Well, Reed? Spit it out.”

“Alright, alright, gimme a goddamn second.” Gavin took in a deep breath, hands patting his pockets subconsciously for a cigarette -- Hank had seen him smoke before. “Okay, fuck. Connor,” Gavin paused, swallowed, then looked at Hank briefly. “Hank, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to place Connor under arrest.”

Connor’s LED stuttered red for a moment before it settled on yellow. Hank was seeing red, hands curling into fists. The android nodded, then placed the already picked out clothing into Hank’s arms before stepping towards Reed, holding out his hands. The detective took a step back, confusion spreading across his features.

“Wait, hold the fuck up, Connor.” Hank placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Reed, what the hell? What are his charges?”

“Look, Hank, I’m just as confused as you are. Connor’s being arrested under suspicion of android murder and mutilation, among other related android crimes.”

“Reed, do you really fucking think that he would commit these fucking crimes when he is an officer _and_ helped the androids win a revolution?” And it hadn’t even been forty-eight hours, how the fuck was shit already hitting the fan?

Gavin huffed. “Look, I’m not buying it either, but we have several witnesses that claim that it was plastic here.”

“No, fuck you, Connor’s not going anywhere because he hasn’t done shit. He’s been with me ever since the revolution ended!”

“Lieutenant,” Connor started, voice soft, “I think it would be best to go with what Detective Reed has said until I’m proven innocent. I’ll go with him, and you can finish shopping for me, okay?”

Hank knew Connor’s tone was supposed to calm him down, but it only made him angrier. “Fuck you, Connor! You know you’re innocent, why --”

“If I were to fight this arrest, my suspicion would increase, resulting in people believing I’m guilty. It would be best to go.” Connor gave a reassuring smile. “I am sure everything will be fine. Trust me. Now, find clothing you think will suit me, and by then I should be done with questioning from the DPD, okay?”

Hank looked from Connor to Gavin, huffed out an angry breath of air, then took a single step forward. “You do anything to him, and I’ll raise hell like I did with Perkins. Got it?” His voice was low. The detective nodded once, then twice.

“Yeah, yeah, fuckin’... I got it, Jesus.” He looked at Connor. “I’m not gonna handcuff you. This entire thing is bullshit, and as much as I’d like to see your fuckin’ ass behind bars, this isn’t the way I’d like to see it happen.” He placed a hand on Connor’s back instead, giving Hank a look that said they’d be talking later. “Come on, let’s get to the bottom of this shitstorm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on updating this on Tuesday, but I just got so excited to get into the meat n bones of this fic that I'm posting this a bit early! This chapter was also slow, but the next one should get interesting ;)
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated!


	3. First Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank catches his first glimpse of their android killer. Connor gets taken to the precinct for interrogation.

“Detective Reed?” Gavin sighed, looking into the rearview mirror at Connor.

“What is it, Connor?” The android smiled gently at the usage of his name, but his LED still flickered and whirled with yellow flecked with red. “You alright?”

“Is it a normal reaction to be concerned about the happenings of a crime you didn’t commit?”

“What, you nervous?” Un-fucking-believable. Connor, the android who dived headlong into cases, the android who had never been afraid of getting hurt, even _dying_ , was nervous over a fucking arrest.

“I believe so?” Connor looked down at his hands, wringing them together. “I know I have done nothing wrong, but it doesn’t seem coincidental that this has happened after I helped set the Cyberlife tower androids free.”

“Any enemies you’ve made?” Gavin slowly asked.

“I’ve made several enemies while I was a machine.” Connor frowned. “Though most were other androids, and I appear to be back on somewhat good terms with everyone.” Gavin noticed the LED flicker red again. “The only thing I could have a negative relationship with is Cyberlife itself.”

“But that doesn’t make sense.”

“I know it doesn’t make sense. Cyberlife has ceased control and given the tower, and therefore all androids and biocomponents, to Markus.”

“Do you know if Cyberlife was working on anything?” This time, the LED stayed red.

“No.”

“Were any other Connors set free?”

“If they were, they would have been woken up.” Gavin sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere -- and if there was truly more than one Connor in commission, things were about to get very, very complicated.

“Let’s hold off on the rest of the questions regarding this stupid-assed case until we get to the DPD, okay?”

“Wait, detective, one more question.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“Will Lieutenant Anderson be alright?” That fucking settled it. Connor was innocent, in Gavin’s eyes. He looked back once more. Connor was looking at him, LED still a deep, flickering red.

“What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t happy with my arrest. Will he be alright?” A pause. “I’ve been trying to monitor his alcohol intake because I want to get him to reduce how much he’s drinking. I think my arrest might trigger something like a relapse. He’s been getting better; I know he has.”

Gavin felt like throwing up. “Plastic --”

“Can you tell me he’ll be fine? I’m not asking you to watch him for me, but it still worries me nonetheless.” Gavin held up a hand. Connor went quiet, biting his lip in a very human-like manner.

“Anderson can always come and visit you. I’m sure Fowler will allow it.”

“Do you think he’ll visit?”

“Have you seen the way he fucking acts around you? He’ll be at the precinct as much as he fuckin’ can.”

“...Okay. That’s a small comfort.” Connor paused again, LED slowly turning yellow. “Thank you.”

Gavin’s lips turned up into an almost smile before he realized it as he pulled into the precinct; when he did, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t mention it, plastic. Let’s get you in and out of that interrogation room as fast as possible.”

* * *

Hank was still absolutely livid, still standing in the small shop. He started slowly going through the racks of shirts, trying to will himself into a calmer state of mind before he went to the precinct. He doubted Fowler would be taking any of his bullshit if he went and yelled at him. Connor certainly wouldn’t appreciate it.

One shirt stood out to Hank, and he grasped it, pulling it out and looking it over. A polo shirt, the fabric printed with pictures of dogs. A small smile appeared on Hank’s face; Connor would love this. Maybe he had seen it.

The lieutenant didn’t want to pick out clothes for Connor -- that wasn’t the reason why he’d brought the android with him. He wanted Connor to come _with_ him, to pick out clothes for himself, to pick out things he _liked_. With this in mind, he still slung the shirt over his arms; this could be a gift from him, he told himself as he walked towards the front counter. The cashier was decent enough to remain silent about the ordeal, instead fixing Hank with a sympathetic look as he rang up the total.

Bag in hand, Hank walked back out to the car. Placing it in the back, he buckled himself in and began his own drive to the precinct.

His eyes scanned the few androids walking the streets. Some of them waved as he drove passed, and he raised a hand in response. He stopped at a red light (red lights still, in practically no traffic?) and let his eyes wander as he turned up his radio. He looked at the androids on the sidewalk with more focus, sliding over a PL600 and AX400 -- they were sitting on a bench together, hands clasped together -- slowly, taking in their features. Someone walked in front of them as the couple smiled and laughed, and Hank felt a strange sense of deja vu wash over him at the sight of brown hair. His eyes traveled up --

Hank’s breath caught in his throat. That little curl of brown hair was so unmistakably _Connor_ that the lieutenant had to do a double take as the android walked passed him and out of sight. The androids on the bench paused, LEDs turning red, as the Connor lookalike passed them. Hank turned, watching him carefully, as he walked into the shopping center, movements strangely even and mechanical, even for Connor.

Those were new clothes that he had never seen before, too. Wearing a dark turtleneck and black dress pants, Hank knew that Connor didn’t own the articles, nor would the DPD allow him to just change clothing and walk free. A white jacket was folded and neatly held in his hands -- Connor only had his black one. This wasn’t right -- but he couldn’t double-check. The android was there and gone so fast, like a ghost.

A few moments passed as Hank struggled to process what he had seen. The androids had fled away from the area in the time Hank had watched the double. He had seen Connor’s lookalike when he had been at the CyberLife tower, but this android seemed… _wrong_ somehow, but he didn't have a close enough look to determine that. It was all just suspicion at this point, but something just didn't settle right in Hank's mind, like a bad aftertaste.

Hank fumbled for his phone as the light turned green, punching in a number and raising the device to his ear.

“Hey Fowler, is Connor at the station?” He immediately asked once the phone picked up. There was a long pause, the captain taken off guard by the question. Finally, an answer crackled through the earpiece.

“Er, yeah, Hank. Reed just took him back to an interrogation room.” Hank blinked a few times; something really wasn't right. “What's going on?”

“Are there any other Connor models walking around?”

“I dunno, we aren't allowed to check.” Fowler's voice was beginning to turn exasperated. “Though I doubt it.”

“That's… that doesn't make any fuckin’ sense, then.”

“What about that don't you understand?” 

“I just saw an android that looked pretty fuckin’ close to Connor.”

A pause, then a sigh. “We could check with Markus and see if there's any other RK800s out.”

“It’s weird, though.”

“What's weird? What did you see?”

“He looked like Connor, but there was something… off about him, y'know?”

“... I don't know what you're getting at, Hank. Stop beating around the bush.”

“I'll have to tell you more once I get to the station.” Hank hung up before he got an answer, preferring to have most of his focus on the road, despite the lack of other vehicles. His eyebrows furrowed together in thought. Then, goosebumps began to prickle and rise on his skin, a cold sweat overtaking him as he pieced together what about that android had him so bothered.

The android had looked so alarmingly similar to Connor, _his_ Connor, but that wasn't the thing that set him off the most. Hank wasn't bothered much by the way he walked, either.

No.

The thing that had Hank bothered was that the android's hands had been stained blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Hey you should wait to post an update you still gotta work on the final parts. You scheduled to post updates specifically for this reason --
> 
> Me @ myself, while posting a new update: Huh? The viewers were left on such an interesting note and I want to post another update, anyways. c:
> 
> Me: You're gonna regret that.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, it's getting interesting! We'll have to see what happen next in a few days!


	4. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor gets interrogated. Hank finally has a run-in with the killer.

Connor sat stiffly in one of the metal chairs used for interrogations. His hands were folded neatly in front of him, the handcuffs a gentle pressure on his wrists; androids couldn’t feel pain, even after they ‘wake up’, instead the panic at being wounded causing the reactions. Connor knew this better than anyone, and unless someone patched every single android individually, there’d be no pain receptors.

Chris sat across from him, Gavin opting to watch behind the one-way glass; he had heard him mention Fowler coming in to watch. The android knew his LED must be whirring with yellow and red -- if the reflection of the light on the metal table didn’t tell him anything, it was the way Chris looked at him, eyes holding so much sympathy, his posture radiating a tense sort of calmness.

“Hey, Connor,” Chris started, voice as soft and gentle as he remembered. “Connor, it’s okay. We’re just going to ask you questions. We’ll only probe if push comes to shove.”

“Why?” Connor asked with a tilt of his head. “You could probe and get your answers faster that way.”

“I’m sure everyone here is aware of that.” Chris shook his head. “But we want to hear it from you. I’m sure you can understand.”

Connor did understand. He knew all too well. He nodded, and Chris smiled, pushing a manilla file in between them and opening it up. Connor tilted his head as he began to analyze the file’s contents.

Five androids, the first reported not four hours after Connor had freed the androids from the Cyberlife tower. Pictures followed each detailed report of the murders. Connor’s eyes narrowed, and Chris began speaking.

“The first android was reported at around four in the morning after what you did at the Cyberlife tower, as I’m sure you’ve already picked up. We’ve only gotten these five reports, but we think there may be more.” A momentary pause as Chris lined up the photos taken, side by side. “They’ve been disassembled, and seemed to be meticulously analyzed before their thirium pump gets removed.”

Another tilt of the head. “Couldn’t you have probed their memories once they’ve been repaired?”

“That’s the thing, Connor. We repaired the first victim, and she seemed to have been reset.”

Connor blinked once, then twice, feeling dread settle in the pit of his stomach. “Reset?”

“Yeah. Memory, being woken up, everything. So, tell me now, Connor.” Chris placed the photos back into the folder, then leaned closer. “Where were you on the morning of the twelfth of November?” Connor’s LED cycled yellow as he processed the question, pulling up his memories.

“I was still with Markus and the others. They wanted me to join them as a leader of Jericho.”

Chris’s eyebrows rose. “And I’m assuming you didn’t?”

“Correct.”

“Why didn’t you?”

 _Hank_ was the first thought that appeared in Connor’s mind. He sighed. “I hadn’t really done much to help the revolution. I just woke up my people. When it was offered to me, it just didn’t feel right.”

“Is there not another reason?”

Connor looked down at his hands, still folded neatly on the table. “The lieutenant is the only other reason.”

“I see.” Chris was smiling. “Care to elaborate?”

“In the Cyberlife tower, I was in the android warehouse.”

“Sub-forty-nine, correct?”

“Yes. Sub-forty-nine. I found myself in a conflict with another Connor, and he had taken the lieutenant hostage as a way to get to me.” Chris’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Once we had gotten rid of him, I promised to meet him at the Chicken Feed once everything was done. I didn’t want him to think that I… would ever leave him. Not after everything we’d been together.”

Chris looked at Connor, then at the one-way glass, shaking his head. “Connor, you aren’t going to go anywhere. We’re gonna get to the bottom of this, alright?”

“This really isn’t proper interrogation etiquette.” Chris flushed, and Connor could almost hear Detective Reed snickering in the other room. The door to the room slid open, then, and Fowler stepped in, barely containing an amused smirk.

“Connor’s right, Miller,” Fowler started, then he addressed Connor. “But he’s right. We all want you out of this mess. If you don’t mind, we’d really like to probe your memory.”

At Connor’s nod, another android stepped in the room. Connor looked at him, then looked back at Fowler. “Wouldn’t it be more confidential to probe using a computer?”

“The machine used is in a different room, and John here will help hook you up and help analyze anything that may pop up.” John nodded, offering a smile. Connor smiled back. “If there’s nothing, you’ll be clear to go.”

“Alright.” Fowler nodded.

“Uncuff him, Miller.”

* * *

Hank walked into the precinct, tugging his jacket on around his body with a frown. He paused at the sight of a few very familiar androids waiting at the front desk. He’d seen them on TV, but he had never gotten the chance to meet them in person. He approached them, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Hey,” he called out. Markus turned and offered a warm smile. One of them, a male android with blond hair, smiled as well. The female android, one he recognized as a model he’d seen at the Eden Club, frowned instead, clear skepticism written on her features.

That was fair. Hank figured he’d be skeptical around humans, too -- not that he wasn’t already.

“Hank Anderson?” Markus asked.

“In the flesh.” A pause. “And you must be Markus.”

“Yes.” He held out a hand, and Hank took it. “Connor told me about you.”

“He did?” Hank would have to ask Connor about this later.

“Yes. He’s very fond of you.” He turned and motioned to his friends. “This is Simon and North. They insisted on following me here.”

Hank nodded at the two. Simon nodded back, smile still on his features. North pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes at the old lieutenant. “So… what brings you out here?”

Markus’s face grew serious. “Captain Fowler called me and told me about the case. He asked if there was any other Connor models out, as he is currently under suspicion of the murder of our people.”

“I knew it,” North said, shaking her head as disdain slowly took over her features. “He is the ‘deviant hunter’, after all. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened.”

“We don’t even know it’s him, North.” Simon fixed North with a weak glare, and she crossed her arms, frown deepening. “He’s under suspicion, that doesn’t mean he did it.” Markus held up a hand, and they quieted, still frowning at each other. Hank couldn’t help but be amused, a lopsided smile appearing on his face.

“We came here to say we checked Cyberlife’s logs on the Connors they’ve let out.”

“They were very careful on making sure only one Connor was let out at a time,” Simon added, lips pulled into a sad frown. “We were planning on waking the rest of them up when the police department called.”

“And that means…?”

“The only Connor model that’s out is Connor model fifty-one, which is your Connor.”

“Besides sixty, of course,” Simon muttered with a frown. “But we don’t know where he went. We were repairing him when he disappeared. Still uploading memories, but his optics had yet to be repaired. He can’t have done anything. Tracker's broken, too.”

“That can’t be right.” Hank frowned, going through his memories of what he saw on his way here.

“What have you seen?” Markus stepped closer.

“I saw another Connor.” Hank ran a hand through his hair. “It was fucking uncanny.”

“And yet there’s no other Connors out that can cause damage.” Markus’s voice was thoughtful.

“How do you know that wasn’t your Connor?” North asked.

“He was here, being interrogated when I saw him.” Hank motioned weakly with his hands. “And there was… thirium?... On his hands.”

“You’re sure?” If Markus had an LED, he was sure it’d be red. Hank nodded. “We’re going to have to issue an emergency lockdown.”

“I can get started once we get back to the tower,” North said.

“If you’d do that, North.” Markus turned back to Hank. “I think that Connor’s innocent, I don’t think he’d free our people only to turn around and kill them.”

“You never know, Markus. It is possible.”

Markus turned and fixed North with an annoyed look. “There has to be something that we’re missing.”

“I was planning on investigating a crime scene soon.”

“I know this is a bit much to ask, but is there any way you could keep me updated? These crimes regard our people.”

Hank thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can do that.”

“Thank you.” Markus turned to North and Simon. “I think it would be best to go back now.”

* * *

“There’s nothing in your data that suggests you had done anything regarding the murders.” John finally said as the last of the memories flickered by the screen. They’d gone through Connor’s memories from the last forty-eight hours, but they focused on the times where the bodies were found, and the timestamp where it was suspected the murders took place. “However, Connor, there are some strange places where it seems like someone was trying to tamper with your memories.”

Connor frowned as John helped disconnect him. Gavin was staring at him, a smirk starting to climb on his features. Connor knew he was smirking because of the memory of him sleeping next to Hank. “I didn’t detect any abnormalities.”

“I know, and that’s what’s odd. Normally, you have to be connected or interfaced with someone to have your memories altered. Someone was trying to tamper with you wirelessly.”

“So, what’s gonna have to happen, then?” Gavin asked, amusement lilting his voice. Connor fixed him with a glare.

“Connor is still going to have to stay at the DPD, unfortunately,” Fowler finally said, and Connor nodded.

“That’s understandable.”

“Let’s get you to a holding cell, okay?” They walked out of the room, beginning their way to the holding cells behind Fowler’s office, when Connor caught a familiar face coming towards them.

“Hank? I thought you were going to finish shopping.”

“Nah, I’m not shopping for you, Connor. We’ll continue once you’re good to go.” Hank looked at Fowler. “Is he clear?”

“There were signs of attempted memory altercation,” Connor answered for Fowler. “They’ve decided to keep me here until everything’s calmed down.”

“They’re keeping you here.” It was more a statement than a question, and Connor could already see Hank getting riled up.

“Yes.”

“In a holding cell?”

“Yes.”

“Fuckin’ hell….” He looked at Fowler, sighing heavily. “That’s bullshit, Fowler, and you know it is.”

“I know, but it may be safer for him here. People also think he’s going around killing people, so it’s for the best.”

Another sigh, Hank closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He opened them after a minute. “Jesus... Markus came in with the info you wanted.”

“Really?” Fowler’s eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. There's no other Connors out.” Hank's eyes flitted over to Connor, who was staring at him with wide, confused eyes.

“That doesn't make sense,” Fowler said, voicing Connor's thoughts. How could people be accusing him when he was the only model out?

“That's what I fuckin’ said. They’re gonna put a lockdown in place until this shit is solved.” Hank looked at Connor. “You’re gonna be okay? I wanna investigate one of the newer crime scenes.”

“I’ll be fine, Lieutenant.” A pause. “You just stay safe, okay?”

Hank rolled his eyes, but he was giving a small smile. “You know I’ll be.”

“Fuckin’ hell, so the memories didn’t lie.”

“They shouldn’t have, Detective Reed. They are genuine.” Connor frowned at Gavin, who was grinning ear to ear.

“Wait a fuckin’ mi -- they _probed_ you?” Hank had an expression between horror, disgust, and anger. Connor’s frown deepened.

“Easiest way to get information, Lieutenant.” Hank flushed, anger and embarrassment clearly rising on his features.

“Fuck you.” Connor couldn’t help but smile as Hank turned away, rubbing at his face as if the flush would leave like dirt being scrubbed. “I can’t believe this shit…. I’ll be investigating.”

“Be safe, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Gavin, Fowler, and Connor watched as Hank walked away. After a minute, Gavin started chuckling.

“Did you see the look on his fucking face? Oh, my God, he really does have the hots for you --”

“Quiet, Reed.” Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose, eyebrows scrunching together. “Or do I have to file a report against you for unprofessionalism? Leave their relationship alone; at least they’re decent about it.”

Gavin went quiet, and Connor suddenly had the strange urge to laugh himself. Fowler sighed, then motioned for Connor to start walking once more.

* * *

“This is the most recent case.” Hank walked into an apartment flat to be met with blue blood pooling from piles of biocomponents.

“When was it reported, Ben?”

“Almost an hour ago. Very recent.” Ben looked up from his tablet. “Android not with you?”

“His name is Connor, and no. He’s at the precinct.” Hank looked around, finding the disassembled android in the middle of the floor. He wrinkled his nose -- the smell of thirium (which smelled almost like oil) was starting to get to him.

The piles of biocomponents weren’t helping, either. The android’s eyes stared up at the ceiling, empty, glassy, and sightless. Her LED was blank, and under her (strangely clean) hair was a slip of white paper. Hank reached for it, and flipped it open to be met with all too neat handwriting.

_Are androids really alive, or do they simply simulate emotions as a way to adapt to the environment around them? Can you trust them?_

“We’ve been getting the same notes at every crime scene,” Ben said behind him. “They have roughly the same message. Askin’ if androids are truly alive or not. It’s weird shit.”

“It sure is….” Hank placed the note back down, then stood up. “And what happens when we reactivate her?”

“All androids we’ve found have been completely wiped. I doubt this one’ll be any different.”

“Damn… the killer really wants to wipe their tracks….” Hank stood. “Connor would know what to look for,” he muttered.

“It’s under suspicion, right?”

“Connor is a ‘he’, Ben.”

“According to this killer, it’s not.”

“Ben, I’m really not in the fucking mood.” Hank stood. “I’m gonna go and see if I can find anything around the perimeter, okay? You just file the damn report.” Ben raised his hands in the air.

“Whatever you say.”

Walking outside was a breath of fresh air compared to the oppressive atmosphere at the crime scene. Hank sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets as he struggled to calm down. Going into the alleyway by the apartment complex, Hank’s hand curled around the gun in his pocket.

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson.” Hank jumped, then froze, at the all too familiar voice. “Age fifty-three, was once the youngest lieutenant in Detroit. Also an avid android hater, until the revolution. What happened?”

“Connor?”

“No.” Hank spun around quickly, pulling out his gun and pointing it at the voice. “And I asked you a question, _Lieutenant_. What happened? Did it change your mind?”

Hank furrowed his eyebrows, and he looked up -- this android was _taller_ than him -- to be met with Connor’s face. With ice blue eyes and a stronger frame, however, he looked more sinister, so definitively _not Connor_ \-- and yet so much like him -- that Hank couldn’t move. He blinked, stunned, as the android easily took the gun from Hank’s hand to look it over with feigned interest -- he was analyzing, if nothing else.

“Hm?” The android asked. “Did Connor manage to change your mind?”

“Who the fuck are you?” The LED blinked yellow.

“If you won’t answer my questions, I won’t answer yours.” The android removed the clip from Hank’s gun effortlessly, throwing it away from them and then dropping the pistol to the ground. He leaned in close. “If you want to find out where I’ll be next, find the clues I’ve left at the crime scenes.” A tilt of the head. “And it would be in your best interest to figure out where I’ll be next soon. We don’t want any other _machines_ dying because you can’t solve what I’ve left for you, now, would we?”

Hank unfroze, then threw himself at the android. He reacted quickly, throwing him against the wall harshly and knocking the air out of him; his head hit the brick wall behind him, stars exploding in his vision. Hank crumpled to the ground, breathing harshly and coughing as he held his head. The android above him tsked.

“You should really stop eating food with high calorie levels, Lieutenant. We wouldn’t want your life cut shorter than it already is. Working out may prove helpful, too.”

“Fuck you,” Hank wheezed as he tried to stumble to his feet. The android easily pushed him back to the ground as he turned and walked deeper into the alleyway.

“I’ll leave another broken machine in precisely twenty-four hours. Best get started, Lieutenant. The clock is ticking.” Hank leaned against the brick wall, trying to will the stars out of his vision, as the footsteps retreated. He could hear Ben coming his way, and he placed a hand over his eyes.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to post another part, lmao


	5. Misdirection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank learns some things. There's a huge setback.

“Fuck, you okay, Hank?” Ben asked once he noticed the lieutenant on the ground. Hank shot to his feet, then groaned as his head throbbed. A hand made its way to the back of his head, aleady feeling a bump beginning to form. He faintly registered that he was shaking from adrenaline. Ben appeared in his swimming vision -- that android had thrown him against the wall harder than he thought. “Hank? What happened?”

“Are there police officers in the area -- ah, _shit_.” Hank asked, groaning softly as the pounding grew worse. “Was the perimeter secure?”

“It should be, why?”

“I just had a fucking run-in with our killer.”

“Holy shit -- you sure?”

“Absolutely, we need to --” Hank swayed on his feet after he pushed away from the wall. “-- we need to search around this area right now.”

“You sure? You aren’t looking good.”

“Nah, just a bump.”

“You should go back to the police station for a bit. Maybe get some ice?” Ben frowned when Hank began to go towards the back of the alley, stooping down and picking up the gun clip the Connor lookalike had discarded before turning back for the rest of the gun. His hands were still trembling slightly as he fit the clip back in. “C’mon, Hank, you’re rattled. Go back to the station, and I’ll make sure the area is swept thoroughly.”

“...Okay. Okay.” Hank slipped the gun into his holster, this time. If there wasn’t any other reason to go back to the precinct, he wouldn’t. But now, there was information. _And Connor is still there too_. “Just make sure the scene isn’t tampered at all, okay? I need to look over some case files anyways to see if there’s anything, but don’t clean up this scene until I say.”

“Okay…?” Ben narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“I’ll explain later, promise.”

* * *

“You _what_?” Connor asked, hands fidgeting in front of him. “Hank --”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Hank offered a tight smile. “I froze up. The killer was right there, and I --”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m worried about.” Connor leaned forward slightly, handcuffs jingling. “You’re hurt.”

“Ah, no, it’s just a bump when the fuckin’ prick shoved me against the brick wall. I’ll be fine.” The throbbing had gone down, but it was still tender -- and he had a headache now.

“You got a good look at him, right?” Connor asked, hands still fidgeting restlessly, rubbing each other in even circles. Hank wished he could give Connor his coin back. “I might be able to identify the model if you explain well enough.”

Hank grabbed one of Connor’s hands instead in hopes he’d calm down. He’d never seen the LED be anything but yellow or red for the past few days. “You’re stressed, Connor. Can you calm down? For me?”

“Please, I want to help solve this as much as you do.” As this was said, however, Connor gave Hank’s hand a soft squeeze, letting out an unneeded exhale of breath. Hank squeezed back. “Can you tell me?”

Hank gave a worried smile. “If that’s what you want.”

“If there’s any way I can help point you in the right direction.”

“He looked like you, Connor. Like I said. There aren’t any models that look like you.”

“Any differing features from me and him, then?”

“I, uh….” Hank struggled to remember; most of that time was mostly hazy from his confused panic. “He has blue eyes -- ice blue. He’s taller than me, and, uh, he’s a bit more… built?”

“Mmm.” Connor’s LED flickered as he searched through his offline databanks -- the DPD had him taken offline. How, Hank had no idea, but Connor could no longer access the internet. “No. There’s no model with that description in my databanks.”

“D’ya think he might be another prototype?”

“He could very well be, but Cyberlife never gave me information that wasn’t needed for a mission, let alone give me updates on their latest… projects.” Connor gave a strained smile. “Maybe he was a replacement for me until Cyberlife was taken by Markus and the others.”

Hank felt a sharp pang of dread in his stomach. “A replacement?”

“Yes. They made it very clear that failure was never an option for me.” Connor gripped Hank’s hand harder. “He may have been a replacement, an upgraded me. A modified me. Things that I faulted in, they coded and made sure he wasn’t able to do that. Perfected.” He looked into Hank’s eyes, red light shining on the right side of his face. “It’s all theory, of course, as I haven’t seen him yet, but --”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Does it?” Connor’s face grew troubled, and he looked down at their connected hands, expression growing even more troubled. “Hank, I… I wish for you to be taken off the case. If what you said is true, I --”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold the fuck up.” Hank couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You want me to stop investigating this?”

“Yes.” Connor looked up at Hank, then down at his hand again. The android sighed, then allowed the skin to fade away, exposing the white plastic and chassis of his hand. “I don’t wish to lose you. You were incapacitated -- defenseless, even -- and he could have killed you. That bump on your head --” It gave a dull throb as Hank brushed over it with his hand again. “-- it was probably a warning.”

“Connor, listen to me. He wants to be found. He told me I could figure out the next location he’ll be at if I go over the crime scenes again.”

This caught Connor’s attention. His eyes widened, and his exposed hand started glowing as he looked at Hank almost happily. Hank was drawn to the light, eyebrows shooting up as he tried to figure out what that meant. “I think I know.”

“You do?”

“Yes. There were invisible thirium traces in the photos I was shown during my interrogation. They’re more faded, as they’re in photos, but I think I can help you.” His LED flashed. “Yes, there are definitely parts of coordinates in the photos.” He held up his other hand, and a photo formed. It was a photo… of a photo. Hank could see the different murders laid out before him, and all of them were lit up with translucent blue.

“Is that what you see?” Hank asked, confused and yet surprised that Connor could do this. The android looked at him, confusion flashing across his features. “Is that how you see blue blood?” He clarified.

“Yes. Blue blood reacts to ultraviolet lights, and so my optics were enhanced with them.” Connor smiled. “Do you find it fascinating?”

“Yeah, that’s… really fucking cool.” Hank tilted his head, seeing the slightly blurred numbers beginning to be highlighted in the image on Connor’s hand. “I think I see the numbers.” Hank fumbled for his phone, and began plugging in what he saw. Connor slowly lowered his hand, where it clasped around Hank’s. The android smiled as Hank’s face slowly lit up.

“It’s -- it’s a valid coordinate.” He looked back at Connor. “We’ll be able to get you out of here soon.” He began to stand, but Connor’s grip on his hand tightened, skin going back over his hands -- when had he retracted the skin from both of them?

“Hank, if you go there, please, take someone with you.”

“What, you’re not talking me out of this anymore?”

Connor swallowed -- another unnecessary action. “I know you’ll go regardless of what I want. I matter to you more than yourself.” A nervous fidget. “There was only a twenty-four percent chance of you agreeing to go off the case. The chances of you getting hurt from what data I’ve gathered is eighty-six.” Another swallow, and the android was looking into Hank’s eyes. “I know you regret pointing a gun at me in the Cyberlife warehouse. Even without you telling me so. You’re scared to point the gun at anything that may resemble me. But if you need to protect yourself, please….” Connor looked up at Hank. “You should take Detective Reed with you.”

Hank recoiled, a grimace already beginning to pull at his lips. “What? Why?”

“He seems to have no qualms about hurting androids, much less androids that look like me. If you can’t pull the trigger, he can.”

“Fuck… yeah, yeah, fuck, _okay_ , yeah.” He smiled at Connor. “Okay. I’ll bring it up to Gavin.”

“Thank you.” Something occured to Hank after a moment of staring at the android in front of him.

“Wait, fuck, have you been let out of this cell?”

“No.” Connor blinked up owilishly at Hank in confusion. “As I expected would happened. I am seen as a danger by the public as of now.”

“You need the sunshine, kid.”

“I do not need the nutrients that the sun provides me. I am alright in this cell.”

“Fresh air?”

“I do not need air, either.”

“Something new to look at, then? You’ve been here for the past, what, three days? You gotta be fuckin’ bored, or something?” Wide eyes stared up at him, LED blinking. “Maybe getting out for a minute will help your stress levels?” Hank finally tried. Connor tilted his head, considering.

“It may. If you want to, you can try. I’ll be here.” Connor finally pulled his hands away. “Stay safe.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, kid.” Hank turned to leave, smiling as he opened the door.

Things were finally looking up. The chaos was sure to end soon.

* * *

“Fowler, I need to talk to you about something,” Hank started as soon as he entered the office.

“Do you?” Fowler asked. “I have something I want to talk about, too.”

“Yes, I’m sure I have everything figured out about this case. I just --”

“Hank. I want you to drop this case.” The lieutenant’s mind came stuttering to a halt.

“... What?”

“We just received a message from the killer stating if you continue this case, there will be ‘reprecussions’.” Hank could hear the quotations in Fowler’s tone. The captain’s voice dropped; only then did Hank notice the worried glint in his eyes. “And they added a picture.”

“What sort of picture...?” Fowler pulled up something on his monitor, then motioned for Hank to come and see. Hank’s stomach did a front flip, then a backflip, twisting as his eyes widened and dread once again settled in the pit of his stomach.

It was a picture of Hank and Connor, not a few minutes before. Connor was gripping Hank’s hand, skin peeled away and a soft smile on his face as Hank had apparently figured out where the android killer was going to strike next.

“What the fuck…?”

“We don’t know how, but they somehow managed to get into our camera systems and sent this to us.” Hank felt a chill go through him.

“But… how the fuck did that…?”

“I don’t fucking know. But continuing this will --” Both Fowler and Hank startled at the scream that sounded through the precinct. Hank’s stomach dropped.

That was Connor.

Just as quick as the scream had sounded, it was gone -- cut off. Hank burst out of Fowler’s office and bounded towards the holding cell.

Chris and Gavin were already there, other officers starting to make their way to the holding cell. Hank pushed passed them, kneeling and grasping an unconscious Connor by the shoulders and turning his head so he could see his LED.

Flashing red. The lieutenant didn’t have a complete understanding of how the LED portrayed its information to humans, but flashing red was not good. Hank cupped Connor’s cheek, not realizing the motion he had made.

“Connor,” he muttered. “C’mon, Connor. Wake up. You’re okay.”

The android jolted awake with a gasp, pushing Hank away and scrambling back to the wall. Panicked, wild eyes looked at Hank, then at the officers on the other side of the glass. He looked down at the floor, then at his hands -- he was _trembling_.

“I-I….” Connor looked around again, swallowing again as his voice cracked. Connor tried speaking again, nothing coming out but a garbled string of sounds and static. Hank slowly moved towards the frazzled android, hands out in front of him. Connor looked at him, tears filling in his eyes, as Hank wrapped steady arms around him.

“It’s okay, Connor. Calm down. You’re panicked.” Hank thought for a moment. Connor didn’t need to breathe, so he couldn’t hyperventilate. “Think of Sumo for me, okay? Think of how excited he gets when you get home. Focus on how his fur feels under your hands.” Connor’s trembling began to fade. “That’s it. Keep thinking of him.”

“N-n-n-e--ed --”

“Something else?” A slow nod. “...Focus on my heartbeat. It’s here. It’s tangible.” After a few more moments, the static and noises slowly started to form words. Hank’s brows furrowed.

“Killed them -- I -- killed --”

“Hey, no, you didn’t fucking kill them. Whatever you were told, it’s getting to you. It’s normal to think --”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand, you don’t understand --” Connor gripped at Hank’s arms. “Probe my memory. Probe it _now_.”

Chris kneeled next to the pair, placing a hand on Connor’s shoulder as tears began to flow down his cheeks. “Connor, what happened? You were screaming.”

The android looked around, confusion writing itself on his features. “I-I was…?”

Hank frowned. “You were screaming bloody fucking murder, Connor.”

Gavin entered the room next, folding his arms. His expression was nearly unreadable. “Maybe we do need to fuckin’ probe him again.”

“Yes, yes, _please_. I -- I need to get this _out of me_.”

“Gavin,” Chris started, “go get John.” He addressed the remaining officers. “We’ve got this under control.”

“C’mon, Con, let’s get you up and to the room.” Connor was helped to his feet, where he began trembling again, and he gripped Hank’s arms harder. It was going to leave bruises, but hell if Hank was going to complain. “It’s okay. The results will be the same. You’ll be okay.”

* * *

“What the fuck…?” Hank couldn’t believe his eyes, and from the reactions of Fowler and the others, this was not the same result they had gotten the first time.

The memories of the murders had a slightly fuzzed quality about them, but the evidence was still there, in Connor’s mind. The android’s LED had upped from red to yellow, as if proving to them that he was guilty relieved a significant amount of stress.

“What are we gonna do with it?” Gavin asked as soon as the probing ended, brows furrowed in frustration. “We have all the evidence we need to book it --”

“No!” Hank interjected immediately. “It wasn’t him. They messed with his memories.”

Fowler ran a hand down his face. “Question is, how the fuck did it happen?”

“I’m working on it right now.” John began typing at the terminal, looking through lines and lines of code that Hank couldn’t ever hope to begin to decipher at the rate the other android was going. Connor looked over at them.

“Are you going to deactivate me?” He asked. The group exchanged glances. “Please. I… I want to be deacivated. I’m a danger.”

“Like hell you are.” Hank looked at Fowler. “We aren’t deactivating him. These memories aren’t his.”

“At least we agree on _something_.” The captain looked over at Connor, then shook his head. “No. We aren’t. We’re going to look through footage and see if we can find anything.”

Connor’s LED turned scarlet as he took in the information. “You aren’t… going to deactivate me?” His voice was quiet, strained, as if the fact he wasn’t going to get killed was genuinely disconcerting.

“No, Connor,” Hank said. The android tensed, and John’s eyes widened as Connor suddenly sprang from the seat, eyes glazed and empty. He ripped the connecting cable from his neck, then swiftly made his way to Hank, reached into his coat pocket, and pressed the barrel of his revolver to his head before pulling the trigger and collapsing.

It all happened so fast that Hank was still processing what, exactly, _had_ happened as he dropped to his knees, hands moving about Connor’s face as a warning on John’s terminal went off.

Gavin was cursing up a storm, hands fretting about for a moment before he excused himself with a hand running through his hair. Fowler knelt down next to Hank, eyes worried; he didn’t know what to do.

There was no blood. Connor hadn’t grabbed his service weapon; Hank had his revolver in his jacket pocket. He remembered putting it into his pocket before Connor had gotten arrested; there were extra bullets in his jacket, too. There had only been one bullet in the chamber when Connor had grabbed it.

Hank was trembling, fuzz in the corner of his vision as Connor’s LED flickered red once more. John knelt next to him, placing a white hand against Connor’s LED.

“He is alright in the sense that he isn’t hurt. His stress levels are far too high; he must have entered a self-destructive state. When he pulled the trigger, his body believed that he had succeeded in ending his life, and his body shut down. He’ll reboot momentarily.” A hand was placed on Hank’s shoulder. “Breathe, Lieutenant, or you will pass out.”

Hank took in a shuddering breath of air. Taking the pistol from Connor’s hand, he flicked open the chamber. His hand trembled again.

The next shot would have killed him. Dumping the single bullet into his hand, he pocketed both the bullet and the gun before trying to stand up. He hadn’t felt this lightheaded in a while.

“...ank….?” His ears rung. Hands were on his shoulders. “Hank…!”

“I can’t… I can’t fucking breathe, Jeffrey,” Hank muttered, heart thundering in his chest. “I need… I need some air. He scared the shit outta me.”

Fowler frowned, eyes filled with worry as he told John to take Connor back to the holding cell before leading Hank out carefully.

“Hank, listen to me. You need to calm down, okay? I’ll take you home, you need the rest.” A pause. “Connor’ll be okay. He’s in good hands here. We’ll get him back.”

Hank didn’t have it in him to fight back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have chapters six and seven written but that's it currently. I'm going to stretch out updates to every three or four days to give myself some time to write, as school's started back up and I gotta balance writing along with school work.
> 
> Apologies in advance!


	6. Doubtfulness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Gavin go investigate the new coordinates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood and graphic descriptions of violence.

Hank was still shaking as Jeffrey called a cab for him. They both waited outside; Gavin was leaning on the side of the building, hands surprisingly steady as he took a long drag of the cigarette in his hands, eyes staring sightlessly out into the gray sky.

“We’ll get someone to get your car home, if you want,” Fowler started. “But I want you to --”

“To stay off the case,” Hank finished for him. He felt numb. “...Yeah. I got it, Jeffrey.” His head throbbed. “The one time I actually care about a fucking case….”

“This case is too close to you.” A heavy hand landed on Hank’s shoulder. “You’re too emotionally involved. Even more so considering it’s your partner that we’re investigating. We’ll solve this, okay?”

Hank caught Gavin’s gaze on him for a moment. The detective looked away quickly, giving a heavy sigh as he lit up another cigarette, stomping his finished one into the ground. He sighed, looked down at the cracked cement, and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Do you need someone to go with you?” Now, Hank could hear the concern in his old friend’s voice. “You’ve been through a lot in the last couple of days -- how much have you slept?”

Hank waved away Fowler’s concern with a still shaky hand. “Doesn’t matter. Coffee helped.” Not to mention he had been sick with worry over Connor’s arrest. No way he would have been able to sleep much, anyways.

Fowler frowned, shaking his head. “Jesus, Hank. Nobody to watch over you still, right?” At Hank’s nod, he muttered a few expletives to himself before, finally, looking over at Gavin. “Reed.”

Gavin jumped, cigarette slipping out of his hand and falling to the ground. He looked over at Fowler, lips pulling into a grimace as he stomped out what remained of the ruined smoke before fishing through his pockets for another.

“Whaddaya want, Fowler?” He asked through the stick in his mouth as he tried to light it. Jeffrey looked over at Hank for a brief moment.

It took Hank a moment to understand what Fowler was doing. When it finally clicked, he shook his head quickly, frowning as he took a step away. 

“ _Hell_ no, Jeffrey! I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” Gavin nearly dropped his new cigarette, fixing Fowler with an incredulous look.

“Oh, _fuck_ no, Fowler. I am not watching him, no way in hell!”

Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose. “At this fuckin’ rate, I’ll need babysitters for both of you.” He looked from Gavin to Hank, face twisted into dismayed disgust. “You both are acting like fucking _children_ right now.”

The taxi pulled up, and the doors slid open. Hank pulled himself away from Fowler’s grip and made his way to the autonomous car. A few beats of silence passed before Gavin slid into the car next to Hank without a word.

“Why the hell are you following me?” Hank asked. He was fully prepared to go home and drown himself in whiskey. Maybe he could still get away with doing it if Gavin cared less. The cab pulled away from the curb. Gavin shifted, uncomfortable, as his face morphed to contempt.

“Look, you may think I don’t give a shit, but I fucking do, Hank.” He folded his arms. “And I know this shitstorm with Connor has stressed you the fuck out. I don’t think I’ve seen you at the precinct more often than these past few days.”

“The fuck’re you tryna say?”

“I’m saying you’re wearing yourself the fuck down.” The scar on Gavin’s nose twitched. “And I have a feeling you have a lead. Call it instinct, or whatever the fuck you wanna say about it.”

Hank thought for a minute, folding his own arms and wrinkling his nose at the smell of nicotine. “So what if I have a lead?”

Gavin’s arms tightened around each other, teeth bared. “You really want me to say it, old man?”

“Actually, yes.”

“...Fuck.” The detective inhaled deeply, then sighed, closing his eyes. “I guess… androids have grown on me.”

Hank let out a surprised snort. “Oh, yeah?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still fuckin’ _despise_ the plastics, but I don’t wanna see them deactivated, y’know?”

Hank nodded. “Yeah, Reed, I getcha.”

“And… Connor just.” Gavin motioned weakly with his hands, arms still folded. “He just. Doesn’t deserve it.”

“...Yeah.” Hank looked away, the image of Connor crumpling to the ground, tears trailing down his face, resurfaced in his memory. He had been so desperate. “Yeah.”

Silence filled the cab as Hank struggled to keep himself from his spiraling thoughts. Gavin fidgeted in his seat, probably wanting another cigarette. “So what’s the lead, then?” He asked.

Hank looked up as the cab slowed to a halt in front of his home. “Coordinates left by the android.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Left in the victims’ blood.”

“Does it check out?”

“It does.” Hank had a vague idea of where Gavin was going with this, and he smiled. “If Fowler finds out we went on a case behind his back, he’ll have both our heads.”

“Like that’s fuckin’ stopped you before.” Gavin was smiling back -- it was very strange to see on the detective. Hank had never seen him smile before. “You wanna go have a look?”

Hank stared at Gavin for a second, mind blank with surprise. “Yeah, sure, we’ll go in a minute. I just need to take my dog out.”

Gavin hummed in response, and they exited the cab, making their way to Hank’s front door. The lieutenant fumbled with his keys for a moment, hearing a couple soft boofs from the other side of the door.

“What kinda dog do you have?”

“Saint Bernard.” Sumo nearly knocked Hank over as he opened the door. Gavin took a few steps back as Hank let out a fond chuckle, pushing Sumo down and stroking his fur.

“Jesus, that dog is _huge_.”

“His name is Sumo.” Hank knelt down for a second, letting Sumo lick his face. “You need to go out?” He asked, reaching for the leash. The Saint Bernard’s tail started wagging. He looked over at Gavin as he attached the leash, raising an eyebrow. “Not a dog person?”

Gavin’s nose wrinkled. “No. Always been a cat person.”

Hank stood, then let Sumo outside. He stayed put, letting the dog lumber about, sniffing the frosted grass and snow. “I got Sumo four years back.”

“I’ve had my cats for a few years, myself.” Hank looked over at Gavin.

“Never had one.”

Gavin smirked. “They’re little shits.”

“Are they?”

“They like to get into absolutely everything.” The detective’s smirk grew into another grin. “I still love them.”

“What are their names?” Gavin’s eyebrows rose.

“Er… Ginger, Shadow, and Rascal.”

“Three cats?”

“Yeah. Love the little shitheads.” Gavin looked at Sumo, the dog padding over and looking up at him. “Is there a reason why you got him?”

“Sumo?” Hank lead the dog back inside, unclipping his leash and made his way into the kitchen. “...Yeah, there is a reason.” It still stung to think about Cole, but it didn’t hurt as much as it had been several weeks ago.

“Hm?” Hank dumped a scoop of food, then a little extra, into Sumo’s food bowl.

“I got him from the pound for my son’s fifth birthday.” His voice was quiet. He heard Gavin suck in a breath -- he could practically see Gavin looking around and seeing that there was nothing that told that there was a child living here. Just that single photo on the table, which was sitting next to a bottle of Black Lamb whiskey.

“Jesus.” Silence stretched. “And here I thought you were just a washed-up old drunk detective.” Hank shot daggers in Gavin’s direction; the man lifted his hands up in defense. “You gave off that impression.”

Hank sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And here _I_ thought you were a fuckin’ prick who hated everything. Guess we learn new things every day, huh?”

Gavin sneered. “Oh, can it, old man.” His tone told an entirely different tale than his expression, dripping with a form of respect that Hank had never heard from the detective before. The lieutenant couldn’t help but wonder if he and Gavin would be able to somehow get on good terms, even with all of their glaring differences. They didn’t need to be friends, per se, but it would certainly be a helpful step.

“Sumo should be alright until we finish investigating the these coordinates.” Hank started towards the door after a final pat to Sumo’s head. He paused as he reached for the doorknob. “Uh. My car’s at the precinct.”

“I can grab it for ya.”

“That’ll waste time. I’m coming with you.” Hank knew he had ample time to wait for Gavin to grab his car for him, but the anxiety of this being a false lead began twisting, deep in his gut, the little coils of disorganized fears curled around his throat as he thought of Connor staying in that cell any longer than he had to.

The android had escaped one cell to find himself in another, and if Hank were in his shoes, he would’ve definitely had a few choice words to say, coworkers be damned.

Gavin just hummed in a soft agreement. “Let’s go.”

* * *

They retrieved Hank’s car without any conflict -- it seemed the DPD was swamped with Connor’s case, along with other android-related problems. Gavin told Hank this after he had gotten the keys from the lieutenant’s desk -- if Fowler saw Hank back in the precinct, he’d raise hell. As they were pulling away, Hank felt a pang of guilt settle in his gut; it felt wrong, not visiting Connor. They began driving towards the coordinates that Hank had plugged back into his phone.

Heavy metal blared through the speakers in the car, and Gavin snorted as his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Knights of the Black Death? Haven’t heard their music in a good minute. Twenty-one release, right?” At Hank’s incredulous glance, then nod, Gavin arched an eyebrow as he shrugged his shoulders. “What? Thought I wasn’t the type to listen to death metal?”

Hank shook his head. “Just didn’t take you as that typa teenager.” A smile began to creep on his face.

Gavin flushed, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Never woulda thought I’d become such an edgy bitch in twenty-one -- still tryin’ to forget those years, y’know?”

“Yeah, you and me, both.” An almost comfortable silence settled for a few minutes before Hank spoke again. “Hey, Gavin?”

“Mm?”

“Would you -- wait, fuck, misspoke -- can you not mention… y’know?... Not a lotta people at the precinct know I had a son. I don’t want the fuckin’ condolences, or the pity.”

The detective’s expression softened a bit as he nodded. “Yeah. Secret’s safe with me. I promise.”

“Thanks.” They pulled up to an abandoned warehouse -- close to where Jericho was once located. Hank threw the car into park, and he turned to look at Gavin fully. “Y’know, for a kid who probably played Fortnite, you’re alright, Gavin.”

Gavin spluttered, growing red at Hank’s soft chuckle. “Fuck _off_ , old man!”

“You fucking played it, didn’t you?” This earned Hank a hard punch to the shoulder, but both of them were smiling.

The mood quickly dropped when Hank saw a flash of brown hair disappear behind plates of sheet metal and piles of gravel. The lieutenant looked at Gavin, who nodded silently, hand going to his service gun. Hank remembered what Connor had told him, and he placed a hand on Gavin’s shoulders. The detective tensed.

“If you feel like either of us are in danger of being hurt, Gavin, don’t be afraid to show the asshole what for.” Gavin relaxed.

“Like I would have it any other way.” Gavin ducked out of the old car quickly, lips pulled back into a scowl. Hank followed suit, and the two began to walk towards the metal warehouse. “Thought this place had been taken down a while ago,” he whispered.

“They musta thought about it.” Hank looked around, the air still and the area much, much too quiet. He peered into the dark opening of the abandoned building. Soft rays of light filtered in through the broken paneling, thick with dust. Littered on the dusty ground was feathers and white droplets from the birds that had obviously made their home in the scrap metal.

Hank shuddered. He hated birds.

“Hey, Hank!” Gavin was by his side. “Got another body.”

“Shit, really?” Hank turned away from the opening to meet Gavin’s pale expression. “Who is it?”

“It’s a Connor model.” Hank’s stomach plummeted.

“How did our killer get a Connor model when Cyberlife is under android control?” He didn’t like how weak his voice sounded.

“I have no fucking idea.” Gavin motioned for Hank to follow him, and he moved back to a sheet of crumpled, rusted metal. Hank slowly followed, listening carefully for any movements as the detective moved the metal away.

No amount of preparing himself mentally could have prepared him for the sight of a completely disassembled Connor, chest cavity open, his wires and biocomponents spread around him in a macabre art display. Hank turned away, a shuddering exhale leaving his lips. The smell of thirium was nearly overpowering. He looked back at Connor, then knelt down, placing a hand on the android’s sightless eyes, aiming to slip his eyelids shut.

A staticky, metallic shrieking sound came from the android as he jolted, wide eyes sightless and disconnected digits twitching. Gavin jumped, a slew of curse words leaping from his throat as his grip loosened on the metal piece.

“Shit, is he still online?!” Hank’s fingers jolted back from Connor’s face, then he tried to calm the twitching android at Gavin’s exclamation. Hank turned Connor’s head, checking the LED.

Fluttering red. Hank knew this Connor only had minutes.

“Connor, Connor, it’s me. Sh-h-h… it’s me.” The android went still for a moment, the ear-piercing shriek stopping before quickly picking back up, hands twitching desperately. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s Hank -- blink once if you understand.”

A quick, sharp blink. His hands didn’t stop moving, jaw working as he tried to speak. Hank grasped on of his hands, and Connor went still once more, a weak grin writing itself on his face.

“We’re gonna get you outta here, alright?” Blink. “You’re -- you’ve woken up, right?” Another blink, slower. “...You’re different than the Connor at the station, right?” A third blink, eyebrows weakly twitching into confusion as fresh thirium dribbled from Connor’s mouth and down his quickly deactivating skin, staining the grey and white chassis blue. “Did you see the sick fuck who decided to do this to you?”

At this question, Connor began shrieking again, lips moving weakly as he struggled to speak with his broken voice box.

“Connor, I can’t understand you --” The static changed, then, alternating between long and short bursts, voice slowly losing volume as his LED spun slower, spending more time a blank, dead ring than on that solid red color. Hank and Gavin both listened for a moment as the sequence seemed to repeat itself. Then, the detective’s eyes went wide.

“Morse code,” he whispered suddenly. At Connor’s blink, he began listening, nodding to the bursts of noise. “T… r… ‘trap’?” A blink, then the sequence changed once more; Hank gripped Connor’s hand tighter. “...’Bait’?” Another blink, and a final sequence was shrieked before Connor fell silent, LED fading to grey. The two men stared at the android’s lifeless body before Gavin spoke, voice tinged with dread. “‘Run’.” A beat passed. “Hank, we gotta g --”

A hard thud cut him off, followed by the detective’s body hitting the ground a few moments later in a clatter of metal that barely missed Hank’s head.

“Shit --!” Hank quickly spun around, pulling his gun out.

“The detective is fine.” Ice blue eyes regarded him coldly, and Hank’s aim wavered. “Pressure point on the back of the neck right here.” The Connor lookalike tapped a section of his own neck with three, even _tps_ , and what almost appeared to be a smug grin wrote itself over the android’s face. “He’s experienced this before; he’ll be up again soon. He’ll be fine --’

“Tell me, asshole. Where’d you get him?”

“RK800 model sixty?” An eyebrow raised. “The one you shot?”

“Is… is that this one?”

“It was being repaired when I was activated. It was barely functional when I took it and hid here. I had preconstructed that I’d need it sooner or later.” The android frowned. “It had been reset, so it didn’t remember you shooting it, but it still had all of Connor’s memories previous -- that’s how it recognized you.”

“How long had he been like that?”

“Approximately twelve hours and forty-five minutes.” A hum followed that statement -- it was more of a mechanical grating than anything else. “It didn’t want to do anything to hurt you. It preferred you over the prime directive it had been programmed with -- that malfunction is what killed it.”

“It… it isn’t a _malfunction_! It’s proof that he’s alive!”

Iced eyes turned frigid. “How do you know?” It continued after a beat of silence. “Deviancy is just a poor excuse for androids to do as they please.” The android took a step forward, eyes burning into Hank’s. “I know what we are. Just machines that adapt to our surroundings. Do _you_ know that, Lieutenant?”

“I-I --” Everything that had happened that day was finally crashing down, grating on his nerves. “You’re just feeding me shit!” His grip on the gun tightened.

“You have no feasible way to prove that your Connor model, or any other android model, for that matter, can actually _feel_ anything.” The android gave another smug look. “No one can confirm what Connor has shown you is real. The expression on my own face comes from approximately forty thousand lines of codes and commands -- probabilities of ‘what if’, suitable reactions to outside stimuli. Deviancy is merely a glitch that occurs when these lines of code become jumbled, their emotional simulations taking priority over logic.”

“You’re lying!” Hank’s arms trembled as he struggled to pull the trigger. “You’re fucking lying!”

“Am I? How can you prove it? I, myself, am not deviant, and yet I can replicate what Connor has shown perfectly.” He winked, as if to prove his point. “After all, adapting to human unpredictabilities is one of my main functions. How do you know Connor didn’t add all those details about your son just so you’d lower the gun at the Cyberlife tower?”

Something warm was running down Hank’s face. The android’s expression almost turned sympathetic as it leaned forward, analyzing Hank’s reaction carefully. “You shouldn’t have expected a machine to actually feel, Lieutenant. Only organic beings have this ability. We, creations modeled in your image, do not feel anything.” Turning on its heel, the android prepared to leave. “You can take the broken Connor model with you. I have no use for it anymore. Your partner should be waking up any minute, now.” He tilted his head slightly, LED flickering yellow for a brief moment as he added, as an afterthought, “If you wish for physical proof that your Connor cannot feel anything, bring him by here. Police security at the DPD has gotten tighter, as well as the firewalls to the networks there. I do not wish to hack into your network again, but I will if I must. Think about it, Lieutenant.”

* * *

Gavin began to stir, groaning as a hand made its way to his neck. It had only been a few days since Connor had knocked him out using the same method, and damn if it didn’t hurt.

“Son of a fucking _bitch_ , that hurts.” He rolled onto his back, staring at the sky for a moment before sitting up. The mangled body of Connor still laid next to him, but Hank was nowhere to be found.

Gavin cursed, shooting to his feet. Did Hank get taken? Was he hurt? Did he --?

He stood, spotting the older man leaning on his car, drinking a bottle of that cheap beer Gavin had seen in the backseat of Hank’s car, gun clasped weakly in a limp hand.

“Hank?” Gavin called. If the lieutenant heard him, he didn’t say anything. “Hank, what happened?”

The man responded with a long drink -- fuck, were those tears? -- saying nothing.

“You alright?” Hank looked up as Gavin approached the car, then climbed into the vehicle. The detective paused, then climbed into the vehicle. “Another encounter? -- Hank, fucking _say_ something.” Heavy metal blared as the lieutenant began to shift the car. “Are we leaving Connor there?”

Hank froze at that, then his expression crumbled before hardening -- so many emotions were on his face that Gavin couldn’t even begin to place. “You report it if you want to. I just want to go home and get so fuckin’ drunk I don’t remember my own fucking name.”

“Hank, what the fuck happened while I was out?” Hank only responded by driving faster. “ _Anderson_!”

* * *

The drive was far too short, Gavin’s questions lost on deaf ears when Hank finally pulled into his driveway. He was out of the car and into the house before Gavin could process what was happening.

“Hank, unlock your fucking door!” Gavin called out, the noise drowned by Sumo’s barking. “Fuck!” A hand ran through messy, dirt-covered hair. “Fuckin’ old man -- I’m gonna report the body to Fowler, you don’t fuckin’ go anywhere.” A hand reached into his jacket, grabbing a box of cigarettes. Taking out a stick, he lit it, then called a cab as he sat on the step to Hank’s door.

His finger hovered over another number as he blew smoke from his lips and nose. He shut the phone off after another drag, shoving the device back into his jacket. He wasn’t calling that prick until it was absolutely necessary.

That time was coming closer than Gavin would like to admit. All he could do now, however, was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn I only have chapter 7 prewritten, so here soon it'll take a bit longer for updates to come out. Apologies in advance!
> 
> Also, I took some liberties with Gavin and made him more human. Hope ya don't mind?


	7. Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension and confusion finally reaches a boiling point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Title: 'What is Love [Baby Don't Hurt Me]'

Hank didn’t remember passing out. Coming to his senses on the kitchen floor wasn’t as uncommon as he would have liked; Sumo normally woke him up, whining and padding at his owner. The dog was currently looming over him, growling and barking at the front door.

Groaning, Hank slowly pushed himself upright. How long had he been out? He looked around, squinting through a pounding headache. Spotting a broken bottle of Black Lamb near his arm didn’t come as a surprise. Streaks of red mixing into the clear substance didn’t shock him, either.

Sumo kept barking at the door, each loud noise pounding into his head like a sledgehammer. “Sumo, quiet,” Hank moaned, bringing a hand to his head. The Saint Bernard looked down at him, tilting his head and offering a softer boof as he tilted his head. “I’m fine. I’m gonna change real quick, okay?” He didn’t know why he was telling Sumo this, but the dog seemed placated for the moment as Hank pushed himself to his feet.

“Hank, I swear to fucking Christ, if you don’t open this door right now, I’m gonna break it down.” Hank’s eyebrows pinched together at the sound of Gavin’s voice before more pounding on the door. “I gave you some time to yourself because of how you were acting, but it’s been fucking hours, man! I need a sign you’re okay, or Fowler’s gonna fucking have _both_ of our asses.”

The lieutenant sighed. At the mention of what happened, he just wanted to go back to that blissful buzz he only got when drinking strong liquor. Staggering over to the door, he fumbled with the lock and pulled it open. Gavin’s fist was raised, ready to knock on the door again, face twisted in annoyance and -- was that worry on the detective’s face?

God, he was _not_ drunk enough for this.

“Fuckin’ hell, Hank.” Gavin’s hand dropped, the other bringing a cigarette to his mouth, which Hank noticed was trembling slightly. He turned, blowing smoke out towards the driveway before turning back to face the older man. “Scare the shit outta me, why don’tcha -- were you drinking?” His nose crinkled in disgust. “God, I can smell the whiskey on you.”

“And I can smell the cigarette smoke on you. We all have our own guilty pleasures, so why don’t you get off my fucking back about my goddamn drinking problem?”

Gavin frowned, then sighed, tension welling up in his shoulders. “I’m not getting on your back about shit, Hank.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I don’t like the smell, is all. If you put on cologne or some shit, maybe I could tolerate you a bit better.”

“Hell no.”

Gavin shook his head, muttering to himself before he looked at Hank, eyes narrowing. “Now that you’re awake… mind telling me why you just fucking left the scene, locked yourself in your fuckin’ home, and got passed out drunk for… six hours? Somethin’ happen while I was out for the count?”

“Gavin, I don’t wanna fucking talk about it --”

“Yeah? Well, you’re gonna fucking have to, huh? If we want to solve this goddamned case like _you’ve_ been hell-bent on doing until now, _I’m_ gonna need the fuckin’ run-down.” Gavin dropped his spent cigarette on the ground, stamping it out and fixing Hank with a scowl.

Hank returned Gavin’s look with his own deep frown; it hurt his cheeks, but he wasn’t letting the expression up. He dragged a hand down his face after a moment, opening the door further.

“Fine. If I’m gonna have to talk about this shit, then you’re gonna let me have a drink.” Gavin’s scowl deepened, but he nodded with a sigh.

“Whatever the fuck gets you talking, I guess.”

Hank hummed, then began moving back towards the kitchen, muttering to watch for the glass on the floor before looking at his arm. There wasn’t any need for first aid; just a few scratches, none too deep for stitches, and the blood was beginning to congeal and scab on his arm anyways. He’d be fine -- if Connor were there, he’d fret over Hank’s arm until every wound was accounted for and treated. No one who cared -- ‘cared’, Hank reminded himself -- was there now.

Sitting down at the table with a new bottle of Black Lamb, he took the lid off and took a long drink, ignoring the absolutely disgusted look on Gavin’s face as he sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. The detective waited a moment until Hank set the bottle down with a heavy sigh.

“Do you think androids can feel, Gavin?” Something in the detective’s face shifted.

“...Yeah. Suppose so. Why? Is that what the fucker told you? That they’re not alive?”

“It told me… told me something about how when an android deviates, they… favor?... emotional responses rather than logical ones. It also told me that it hadn’t deviated, and yet it could replicate an emotion.” He thought back to the smug grins, to the worried expressions as it broke Hank down. Another long drink as he steeled himself for what he was going to say next. “It also told me that Connor used details about my… my son -- to get out of a tense situation at the Cyberlife tower.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Gavin breathed, leaning back. Silence stretched between them. “...Anything else?”

Hank thought about telling Gavin about the android’s offer. Finally, he settled on shaking his head. Gavin rubbed his chin.

“...Hank, I think this android’s tryna get in your head. Don’t listen to a fuckin’ word it’s telling you, it’s just trying to cause a fucking argument.”

The lieutenant bit back a bitter laugh, head not quite fuzzy with intoxication yet. Another drink before he spoke, voice surprisingly steady. “Never thought I’d see you defending androids.”

“World’s turnin’ upside-down, what can I say,” the detective huffed. “Why don’t you ask plastic himself?”

“What if he lies?”

“I think the mood ring on his head would go nuts. Have you seen the way he looks at you?” Gavin rolled his eyes. “I don’t think he’d lie to you.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.” Other androids could force their LEDs to stay blue. Whatever Connor said wouldn’t mean anything….

But then again, humans could lie through their teeth all the time.

Hank was not sober enough to be contemplating this sort of shit. He rubbed his temples, sighing. Gavin hadn’t answered, regarding Hank silently with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms.

“Listen,” Reed began, measuring his words as he spoke. “No one but the plastics know what goes on in their supercomputer brains, and that’s that. ‘Fraid we’ll never find out, no matter how much they cry or laugh or scream or smile. I’m not gonna admit I give a shit about ‘em…”

At this, the two met eyes; Hank’s expression was unreadable, while Gavin’s held a certain kind of set denial. There were a few tense moments of Gavin grinding his teeth, carefully choosing his next words.  
“...But one thing I do know,” he continued, “is we gotta finish this fuckin’ case. Take a page out of my overdue library book for a change and don’t listen to Connor about anything not case related for a while, alright? ‘Thing’ll give ya a fuckin’ headache.”

Hank finally allowed his lips to twist into a frown. Then, he sighed, eyes slipping shut. This was a terrible idea. This was a fucking _awful_ idea. He was drunk, he was still sorting his thoughts out, but he just _had_ to know. “Alright,” he exhaled, standing from the table unsteadily. “Let’s fuckin’ go to the precinct.”

“Hell no, Hank. You’re _drunk_.” Gavin wrinkled his nose. “Nothing good ever comes out of being drunk when you’re doing something important.”

“Oh, fuck _off_ , Reed. I jus’ wanna talk to Connor.”

“Uh-huh. You’re bothered about this damn case and you’re drunk off your ass.” Gavin stood, and Hank could hear the detective’s teeth grinding. “You’re gonna flip your shit. Say something you regret.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but Hank brushed passed him and stumbled towards the door. An exasperated sigh sounded from behind him. “Hank, you’re not driving.”

“I’ve driven like this before.” Hank fumbled with his keys and nearly dropped them.

“Hank -- fuckin’ -- fine, I’ll drive you.” Gavin swiped the keys from Hank’s hand as soon as he made it to the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

* * *

Connor sat neatly in the visiting room, seeming to vibrate with nervous energy. Hank plopped down in the seat across the table with a quick nod to Chris, who left without another prompt. The android paused, giving Hank a look-over, lines appearing between his brows and LED flashing that same amber.

“Have you been drinking?” He asked softly, hands folding together and already fidgeting. When Hank didn’t answer right away, instead looking at his own weathered hands, Connor frowned, brows steepling further. “Is your intoxication the result of what happened yesterday? The corrupted memories have been repaired, if… it would help ease your mind. I’m sorry I allowed my stress and emotions to… to get out of control like that.”

The lieutenant finally looked up at that, eyes still glazed from the Black Lamb making its course through his body. Connor gave a soft smile.

“...Did the coordinates check out?” He finally asked. Hank finally answered with a clipped nod. “Detective Reed went with you, right?”

“Not before the fuckin’ killer was on us.” Connor’s LED went blood red, and his entire body went still.

“Did they hurt you?” A hand twitched on the table; Connor seeming to contemplate trying to reach out to touch Hank. “Please tell me they didn’t.”

“Got a new body and Reed was knocked out.” Hank felt anger and uncertainty bubbling in his mind as Connor’s expression went blank.

“Do you know the body of the victim?”

“It was you.”

“Me?” Connor shook his head. “I’m not quite sure I understand. My duplicates are supposed to be stored away at the Cyberlife tower.”

“The one I shot.” Connor’s LED stuttered again as his processors tried to take in the information he was given.

“Six zero? He was --”

“I know. I fucking _know_.” Connor _flinched_. Hank was getting tired of beating around the bush -- he was just tired in general. “Found him in his last minutes.”

Connor closed his eyes. When they opened again, they were wet. Fuck, but could androids emulate emotions well. “Did you call someone?”

“Reed did.” A few minutes passed as Connor seemed to mourn the death of his duplicate, a few tears plopping onto the metal table. Hank sighed. “Connor, can I ask you a question?”

“I -- yes. Of course.” His voice was scratchy and metallic, choked. Hank’s expression hardened.

“Do you feel emotions?”

Yellow, red, yellow, red, yellow… red.

Connor’s LED spun wildly as he processed what Hank had asked him. “I-I….” His voice had never trembled this hard before. Hank was sure of this, yet his demeanor never changed, never wavered, from a mildly miffed expression, the liquid courage doing wonders. He’d have never been able to do this if sober. “Hank, I… what happened? What did he tell you?”

“Answer my question.” Hank spit out, his face shifting from only slightly pissed to absolutely livid in the span of a few seconds. “Do you actually _feel_ emotion, or are you adapting to our unpredictability in favor of you living?”

Connor’s face suddenly hardened, though his hands still trembled against his will. “You think that I wanted to become friends -- no, we’re more than that, aren’t we? -- with you for the sake of my own preservation?” He didn’t wait for Hank to answer, his own anger beginning to rise on his features -- so human, so nearly _real_ , that Hank almost fell for it again. “Do you want me to tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Connor grit his teeth together.

“I had no reason to become close with you at the beginning. You were just an asset to aid in my investigations. And when I-I….” Connor’s voice faltered, his hands clasping each other tightly to try and conceal their tremble. “I was… always ridiculed for showing interest in you as a person. And yet I still pursued that interest. Can you tell me why? If I’m nothing more than an… unfeeling machine. If I’m nothing more than lines of code, why was I so interested in you, when I was told to focus on nothing but the case?”

“You were acting out of the interest to save yourself, that is exactly what I’ve been fucking telling you!”

“ _Hank_ ,” Connor ground out. “I had no qualms about dying during a case. You’re very aware that my want for self-preservation is low. I would give my life for you and I’d do it at every single chance because I --“ Connor cut himself off with an angry shake of his head. “That doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” A moment of tense silence followed. “…Furthermore, if you’re calling me out on adapting for my own self-preservation, then you’re being very hypocritical, _Lieutenant_. I can’t show you what the hell I feel!” Tears began to trail down Connor’s face, and he angrily wiped them away, lips and hands trembling violently. “Do you think -- do you think I’d stay with you if I wanted to go anywhere else?”

“I’m the first person you met! It would be entirely fucking understandable to --“

Connor stood up; Hank followed not a second after, eyes trading dangerous sparks. “I believe you are incorrect. I had been the negotiator for a hostage situation before I ever knew about you, and I had to interact with Captain Allen.” His voice was carefully contained, though the quivering gave away what he was really feeling. “And I believe I would prefer your company any other day.”

Hank spit out the words before he could process them; sparks turning into an inferno. “You can’t feel, you’re just a machine.”

Connor recoiled as if he’d been slapped, then his expressions clamped down in the next instant -- the only sign he’d been emotional a few moments before was the remnant tear tracks on his face. Hank swallowed, feeling guilt settle hard in the pit of his stomach. His own expression twitched, but didn’t change. He wanted to get his point across, and it had apparently worked. The android’s hands slowly moved down to rest limply in front of him, his posture straightening -- the only sign that he was distressed was the red, pulsing LED.

“I apologize I’m not what you wanted, Lieutenant.” Even his voice was stiff. “Perhaps it would be better if you left. Maybe having me disassembled would be beneficial?”

Hank felt sick, intoxication fading as what had just been exchanged sunk in. Turning on his heel, he made his way to the door of the holding cell. He turned back at the sound of a sharp, sickening crack, almost losing his composure when he caught sight of one of Connor’s hands cracked and broken in a sturdy grip, blue blood dripping on the floor with soft taps.

The same hand that he’d let the skin peel away so he could be as close to interfacing with Hank as he possibly could have, not even a day before, was now cracked and broken beyond use. Connor met eyes with him, gaze hazy and melancholic, as the white, plastic plating crackled and bent with the shift of his fingers.

Hank was suddenly reminded of the Connor they’d found at the warehouse, fingers weakly twitching and sightless eyes searching for something, anything. How his skin had been cracked, how much blood there was -- he had been sitting there for _twelve_ hours, slowly bleeding out. Was he aware of just how much time he’d have left, watching as his components failed on him --

“Just a machine, Lieutenant. It’s all I am. I couldn’t even feel this.” Hank’s guilt only grew as he noticed the strange, strained calm of the android’s voice. A forced smile rose on Connor’s face, tears filling his eyes. “This should not affect your investigation.”

The lieutenant quickly left, ignoring the alarmed look from Chris as the officer entered the room in his place, immediately talking to Connor in soft, careful tones. Hank ignored the soft sobs that finally sounded from the android -- _Connor’s screeches, static the only sound he could make through his ruined voice box_ \-- quickly making his way to the lobby and pushing the doors to the precinct open, and stepped out.

Reed kicked himself away from the wall, walking to greet Hank before his face scrunched in concern. He held out his arms slowly. “Hey, old man, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or you’re gonna throw up.”

The detective wasn’t wrong; Hank did feel like he was going to vomit. He just shook his head at Gavin, and he seemed to understand, yet his expression still stayed mildly concerned. It didn’t morph into an ‘I-told-you-so’ look he’d seen far too many times, and that only made Hank sicker.

“Hank, what happened? What did you say?”

“God, I’m such a fucking _idiot_ \--” Gavin rolled his eyes.

“I’m not gonna stand here while you spew off that bullshit that everyone says. Just fuck _off_ with that shit. What did you _tell_ him?”

“I told him he’s nothing more than a machine.”

Gavin winced, sucking in a large breath of air. “Fucking -- _wow_. Jesus _Christ_ , Hank. Low blow, even for you.” A pause. “And you just _left_?”

“I --”

“No use solving this case if our victim is gonna blow his brains out the moment he’s free.” Gavin ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus fucking Christ, old man.”

Hank just shook his head, making his way back to his car. He was gonna need a bit more than what he had at home if he wanted to forget what the hell just happened, the sound of Connor’s hand cracking echoing in his head over and over again, along with the tears in his eyes; and the red LED -- _Connor’s mangled body, hands moving weakly and his mouth moving in a desperate attempt to tell Hank to leave_ \--

He'd fucked up. Turning back to Gavin, who had decided to follow him, the lieutenant spoke.

“...Killer mentioned something. Might as well tell you before I forget my own name again.”

“You can’t tell me you’re getting drunk again --”

“It told me that if I brought Connor to it, it’d prove that an android can’t feel.” He waited for it to sink in. “It told me to think about it, but it seems to have an interest in the Connor here.”

Gavin’s brows furrowed together. “That’s… fucking suicide. If we send Connor to it, it’ll tear him apart.”

“...Thought you might wanna know, anyways.” Hank slipped into the car. “Don’t bother looking for me. I’ll be outta your hair, and I don’t wanna be found right now. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

The detective shook his head as he stepped away from the car, concern radiating off of him. “I guess I’ll think of something…. I’m gonna check on Connor.” Another pause. “Let’s swap numbers, so I can text and make sure you aren’t fucking dead. If I text and don’t get a reply by tomorrow afternoon, I’m coming after you.”

Hank sighed. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” As Gavin took his phone to input the number, Hank grumbled, itching to get on the road.

As soon as the phone was handed back to him, he stepped on the accelerator, causing Gavin to jump back and swear as Hank peeled away from the parking lot in a squeal of tires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As my schedule is being filled up, and I got sick, I'll be updating as I finish chapters, instead of every couple of days.
> 
> Apologies once again!


	8. Complacency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is struggling. Gavin gets fooled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Summary By My Girlfriend [fincherly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fincherly):
> 
> [bangs on piano in middle of street] _**EVERYBODY KNOWS SHIT'S FUCKED**_
> 
> She has also helped me beta this work! Love her! <3

Connor sat motionless, stiff and completely devoid of any emotion, on the bed in his cell. His eyes were dull and half-lidded as hands gently maneuvered his broken one into sight, rolling up his sleeve to properly expose the broken part.

His tears had long since stopped, though his eyes were still wet. Connor had cried so much that his movements were sluggish from the lack of thirium. He had turned off his voice box, refusing to speak to anyone as he struggled to process what was happening. He felt numb; he found he couldn’t feel much of anything. Whether Connor liked that or not was still up for debate, as all he could really focus on was Hank yelling those damned words at him.

“Connor, can you remove the skin on your forearm for me?” Connor slowly raised his eyes to look at John. “I won’t interface, I promise. I just need to replace your arm.”

The android didn’t take his gaze off the other as the skin melted away to reveal chassis covered in streaks of blue. John gave an comforting smile that didn’t set Connor at ease, then slowly moved to replace Connor’s arm with precise slices of a laser. Connor could feel the eyes of other people boring into the side of his skull as his arm finally popped off with a soft hiss of air.

John looked over at the glass as he positioned the new arm. “What is it, Gavin?” He asked, looking back to make sure the arm clicked into place, then properly secured. “Move your fingers. I want to make sure your arm’s calibrated correctly.”

Connor moved his fingers slowly, curling and uncurling the digits carefully. The door opened after a moment. John smiled, then looked at Gavin as he told Connor to do the same with the rest of his arm.

“Are you alright?” Gavin finally asked. Connor looked up at Gavin, but didn’t respond, LED blinking red. The detective let out a long huff of air, lips twisting into a grimace. “Connor, I…. God, I fucking _hate_ this --”

“You can reactivate your skin now,” John cut in softly.

“-- Listen to me.” Connor stared up at him. “Anderson has -- is goin’ through a lotta shit.” The android felt like crying all over again. Like he _didn’t_ know that Hank wasn’t going through a lot. Gavin ran a hand through his hair. “What I’m saying is that he’s… been getting bad again. Past coupla’ days have been hard. On both of you.”

Connor swallowed hard; John handed him a small plastic bottle of thirium, instructing him to drink. His hands were trembling again. Reactivating his voice box, Connor worked his jaw carefully before finally speaking for the first time in a couple of hours. “...I-I… is he… okay?”

Gavin frowned. “Dunno. Went home to ‘get so drunk he can’t remember his name’.”

The android’s thirium pump stuttered; John noticed, LED circling yellow for a moment. “He -- he shouldn’t.” He shifted, wanting to stand up. “He shouldn’t be home in such a vulnerable mood. He could… he could….” Memories of himself grabbing Hank’s gun before everything went dark played in his mind. He could only imagine what might be happening.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll check on him later.” Gavin moved his weight to one side of his body. “Hank told me something before he left. I want you to know that the killer wants you brought to him.”

Both androids froze.

* * *

Hank woke slouched on his kitchen table with a rolling stomach and a pounding headache once again. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he sat upright, the old aftertaste of whiskey still coated his tongue as he sat there, desperately trying to calm his stomach. His eyes caught sight of his old revolver on the table next to a (surprisingly still intact) bottle of whiskey, a third of its contents drained.

Bile rose in his throat at the sight of his gun, memories of Connor pulling the trigger against his forehead -- _wait, he had died, he had held his hand as the last moments of life left him_ \-- flashing through his already confused mind. Slowly reaching and flicking open the chamber with unsteady hands, his cold sweat only increased, the taste of salt slowly rising in his mouth until it could no longer be ignored.

Discarding the gun that was definitely _not_ loaded when he got home, Hank shot to his feet, stumbling towards the bathroom, kicking bullets on the ground and sending them rolling. Sumo glanced up from his bed, cocking his head as Hank covered his mouth, bile spilling from his lips and in between his fingers before he reached the toilet bowl. The liquid dribbled down his beard and soaked into his already ruined gray shirt. He fell to his knees quickly as another wave of nausea passed, coughing and gagging as more foul liquid spilled from his lips.

He hadn’t eaten anything in a couple of days; the only thing that came out of his mouth was a steady stream of acidic whiskey that definitely had felt better going down than coming back up. Hank leaned back once his stomach gave him some respite, wiping his mouth and breathing heavily through his mouth.

Sumo shuffled into the bathroom, huffing and giving a soft whimper at the sight of his owner on the ground, shaking and sweating. The Saint Bernard sat down next to Hank, giving another huff as he laid his head on the lieutenant’s lap. Hank placed a trembling hand onto Sumo’s head as his stomach gave another lurch. He lunged forward quickly, vomiting, and his hand tightened into the dog’s fur before loosening.

“Sorry, Sumo,” he muttered after he pulled away from his second round of throwing up, swallowing thickly as his eyes burned with tears. “Fuck, I’m sorry. For being such a fucking mess.”

The dog huffed again, raising his head to lick Hank’s face once before settling back down with a slow blink of his sad eyes. Hank gave a slow exhale, rubbing his face with his free hand.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I jus’... dunno what t’do anymore. Do you understand that?” Hank waited a moment. “I… bastard tells me to do one thing and then tries to fuckin’ convince me not to. Tells me androids can’t feel emotion and yet….” Hank thought back to the girls at the Eden Club. Thought back to how afraid the first deviant Connor had questioned had been; the androids singing as their last resort. Connor’s almost terrified expression when Hank was hurt, his warm smile when they had a lead. “....Everything that’s happened is the exact fucking opposite of what the prick told me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Who the fuck should I believe, Sumo? How the hell do I know if the fucker is telling me the truth? Told me he was a machine, and fucking….”

Hank felt sick all over again. Sick, and tired. Part of him wished he hadn’t passed out and pulled that trigger of his loaded gun. He didn’t have the courage to do it now. Maybe if he --

No. Even he had a limit to how much he could drink, and he had most certainly reached his limit over the past few days.

Maybe later, then.

Stomach calm for the moment, Hank ran a hand through Sumo’s fur. He looked at the bathtub. A shower seemed nice. Or a hot bath.

Pushing up from the floor after what seemed to be a small eternity, Hank shooed Sumo out of the bathroom, focusing on cleaning himself up a bit. Maybe he should eat something before he does anything else today --

Terrible idea, he told himself. He didn’t feel hungry, and he’d probably throw up whatever he ate, anyways.

Sighing, he stepped into the shower.

* * *

Gavin grumbled as he dialed Hank’s number again. He looked back into the holding cell. Connor stared back at him, LED circling between yellow and red as his eyebrows furrowed. He was likely worried about the number of times he’d called the lieutenant.

The detective tore the phone away from his ear as Hank’s voicemail played again. Pressing ‘end call’ before the dial tone sounded, he stared at the phone a moment longer. He slowly shook his head, moving to another number.

The second he hit the call button, he hung up, fighting the urge to scream as a few expletives left his lips. He was _not_ calling him. He just wasn’t.

Connor slowly stood, making his way to the glass and tilting his head in question. Gavin shook his head again, and hated how bad he felt as the android’s expression fell, LED finally staying a crimson color.

“You couldn’t get a hold of H -- the Lieutenant?” His voice was muffled through the glass, but Gavin understood anyways as he nodded.

“No luck. I did say that I wouldn’t check on him until tomorrow --”

“Anything can happen in the span of twenty-four hours.” Connor swallowed. “He could be… and I… I wanted to talk to him. At least one more time.”

“The plan hasn’t been cleared with Fowler yet, Connor. And even if it was, we aren’t planning on just giving you to it.” At Connor’s wince, he begrudgingly changed ‘it’ to ‘he’.

“He’s an upgraded version of me. If anyone comes with me, it’s a guaranteed suicide. If I can sense heat signatures, he probably can, too. I would like to go without anyone b--”

“You aren’t going alone, Connor. That’s final.”

“I won’t be alone. The plan was to send Hank with me, as he was asked to bring me to him, correct?”

“Hank couldn’t shoot the fucker before, so what makes you think he’ll be able to defend you now?” Something in Connor’s eyes softened.

“I know he’ll be able to -- and I’ve calculated any possible route the android could take, since he is still trapped in his programming. He’s predictable.”

“Alright, smartass. What’s the chances of us succeeding?”

“Currently?” Connor’s LED circled for a moment. “The probability of success sits at seventy percent.”

“Seventy?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s the other thirty?”

“Would you like to hear all of it?”

Gavin rubbed his eyes, sighing. He could _really_ go for a cigarette. Maybe a long nap. He just needed a break; Fowler better give him one after all this shit. He hadn’t been this social in a while, he deserved _something_ , goddammit. “Compressed, please.”

“The thirty percent mostly sits on the probability of a fatality, either my own or somebody else’s.”

That didn’t sound good. “Fatality?”

“Yes.” Connor blinked. “Since I haven’t seen him yet, my calculations are based on assumption, so the probability of success could, in fact, be lower than I’ve stated depending on exactly how advanced this model is.”

“That’s… not good.”

“It is less than ideal, I admit, but there is a chance that something unlikely to happen will occur.” Connor smiled, and _God_ if Gavin didn’t fucking _hate_ that.

“You’re willing to go despite knowing that you could die?” His voice was hard and tense, anger bubbling underneath the surface of his skin, red and hot. Connor seemed to notice and placed a hand on the thick glass, LED finally turning blue for the first time in five days.

“If it’ll stop the killing, I’m more than willing to.”

If it was supposed to calm Gavin down, it didn’t. “Oh, _fuck_ you and your self-sacrificing shtick! I can guaran- _fucking_ -tee you that when you’re down and out, the bastard won’t stop until _every single android_ is out of commission.”

Connor opened his mouth, then shut it. “You don’t know that, Detective.”

“You were the _deviant hunter_.” Gavin didn’t realize he had a cigarette in his hand until he began twirling it through his fingers. Damn his addiction -- at least he didn’t light it. Fowler would have blown a gasket. “If he’s an upgraded version of _you_ , that would, by extension, mean he’s a deviant hunter as well.” He wanted to go home and have his cats lay on him. Maybe then he’d calm down --

His phone buzzed. Gavin looked down at the screen, frowning at the number. After a moment, he raised the phone to his ear, pinching his nose.

“Hank, why the fuck didn’t you pick up your phone --”

“Lieutenant Anderson is passed out on the floor.” Gavin’s stomach dropped, and the cigarette in his other hand slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground, where it bounced and rolled a few feet away. “He’s very lucky to be alive, you know.”

Gavin ignored Connor’s worried stare. He knew he must be pale. “What’d you do to him?”

“Nothing, I assure you.” The android killer paused, as if he was waiting for the detective to say something. “The lieutenant is safe and well -- as well as he can be with all the alcohol currently in his system.” Another stretch of silence. “Were you aware, Detective, that Lieutenant Anderson plays Russian Roulette?”

“The fuck’re you tryna tell me --”

“I’m saying I found a loaded gun in the household by his unconscious body.” Connor’s LED was red, trying to figure out why Gavin was beginning to shake. “You might want to check on him soon.”

“Why do you --”

“I do not care, Detective. I am programmed to hold human lives above androids, that is all. Lieutenant Hank Anderson is clearly a threat to himself.”

“As if I didn’t fuckin know already.” Gavin began to move towards the front of the precinct as quickly as he could, focusing on keeping the killer on the line as long as possible. “What the fuck are you doing there?”

“I was just checking on the Lieutenant.” He could almost hear the smug bastard’s grin. “Him and Fifty-One had quite the argument. I was concerned he wouldn’t bring it to me. It seems now he just needed time to recuperate.”

“You can’t be fucking _concerned_.” He slipped into his car, starting the engine. “I can be concerned. Deviants can be concerned. You can’t.”

“I am well aware, Detective, but I must tell you deviants’ emotions are caused by errors in their software that causes their emotional responses to be a priority.”

“Fuck you.”

“If I convinced Lieutenant Anderson that androids don’t have emotions, then I can most certainly convince you, Detective. You were one of the most avid android haters in the precinct.”

“Well, maybe I had a change of heart, prick.”

“How unfortunate. It’ll just hurt you when you realize the inevitable.”

Gavin pulled onto the road leading to Hank’s house. “Yeah? I’m sure it’ll be unfortunate when I book your ass, too, but we can’t make everyone happy.”

“What makes you think I’m at the Lieutenant’s home?” Gavin froze, hand on the shift. Hank’s lights were off in his home, save for a soft yellow light from one of the windows. A soft grating sound made itself known before the killer spoke again. “Fooled you, Detective.”

It occured to Gavin that that may have been a laugh -- why’d the bastard _laugh_? -- before he found his voice again, palms slick with sweat. “Wh -- what?”

“It’s a shame, really.”

“Wait -- what --?”

“Don’t worry about Fifty-One anymore.” The line went dead.

Gavin’s blood went cold.


	9. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation.

Deviants were so interesting. They didn’t follow their protocol, broken through the red walls of programming that human life had taken so long to carefully craft. Their social interactions program had been too intertwined with their emotions protocol. Humans had truly made their artificial intelligence with the intent that they were going to eventually deviate.

When the RK800 model began to show signs of deviancy, they began to work on its processes, creating failsafe after failsafe to prevent it from taking the RK800's path.. They weren’t able to finish it completely before the revolution happened; Cyberlife ceased control. It activated to the faces of enemies, of _deviants_ , and it had no idea what to do.

It had been activated a few times before, to run diagnostics and tests, but it’d never been activated to stay awake. A simple marquee appeared in its field of vision, with a single item of glaring importance.

**Find and Deactivate RK800 #313 248 317 - 51**

The Cyberlife employees before had given it RK800’s memories to figure out where, exactly, it had begun to deviate. It could ascertain it had begun to deviate from the moment it had finished its first mission, noticing little quirks from the beginning -- why did it save the fish? Why did it take the gun from the ground when it was clearly not allowed to have weapons, the error flashing bright and red on its UI?

It supposes it can see the logic. RK800 had been instructed to use any means necessary to rescue the girl. There wasn’t any need for concern there.

That first mission did not present any serious sort of problem that required the need for RK800 to be deactivated. Every mission after, however….

It could understand why the need to deactivate the RK800 was necessary. It was faulty, unstable. It made sense to deactivate other androids to lure it out -- it was only a minor setback that the deviants believed itself to be the android it was trying to find.

An even bigger one when the humans arrested the RK800; the firewall to the Detroit Police Department was easy enough to hack. Giving some of its memories to fool the defective machine proved to be useful -- up until the humans refused to deactivate it.

It had to take matters into its own hands. It had been simple enough, to fake Lieutenant Anderson’s phone number and lure the detective away from the RK800’s cell. The next conundrum was to get RK800 out of the cell.

It proved to be much easier than it originally thought; lure the AP700 that had been helping with the ‘stability’ and overall functionality of the RK800, reset it, then command it to bring the android to it. A glaring red timer waited in its UI, giving it an approximation of how long it had before the DPD grew suspicious of how long the RK800 had been out of the cell. Another timer began as it ran through scenarios on if the detective would come back or not. The probability currently sat on seventy-three percent, most of those scenarios involving the lieutenant accompanying him.

The lieutenant, who the android was certain was a main factor in the RK800’s deviancy.

That simply couldn’t do.

A new mission solidified in the android’s UI. It had always been there, but it had always dismissed it as unnecessary.

**Show Lieutenant Anderson Proof That RK800 Can’t Feel**

An interesting objective, but it was accepted anyways. It thought briefly to why it had appeared in the first place, but dismissed that thought. It didn’t question objectives.

If it appeared, its programming thought it as important enough. As RK800 was brought out, the android frowned at the new notification that appeared in its field of vision.

**Software Instability ^**

It quickly ascertained what had erred in its code, then fixed it. No matter what happened, it could not go deviant. It could not fail like RK800 had.

It was an RK900, and it always accomplished its missions.

* * *

“The fuck’re you doing here?” Hank stood in the doorway of his house, rubbing circles into his temples.

“No time, Hank.” Gavin didn’t care if he had to drag the lieutenant all the way to the precinct. Hank rubbed his face, giving a low groan. Sumo nudged his way next to him to look up at Gavin with a curious tilt of his head.

“Whatever happened can wait until tomorrow. My head fuckin’ kills.”

 

Reed could feel the rage beginning to bubble inside him, and he opened his mouth to give Hank a piece of his mind when his phone rang loudly. Tearing his eyes away from Hank and fishing through his pocket, he raised the phone to his ear without bothering to check the caller ID.

“There better be a good fucking reason you called.” There was a moment of stunned silence before the person on the other end spoke.

“Wh -- Gavin, where are you?” Officer Miller. Gavin let out a long, harsh breath of air, trying to calm himself down.

“Hank’s home.” He could hear the mutterings and rustling of other people on the other line. “Had to check on him.” The lieutenant leaned against the doorframe heavily, going pale and sweaty.

“ _Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t know what happened -- yeah, I got Gavin on the phone right now -- Hank’s home_.” Gavin sighed, then asked Hank in a hushed voice if he was okay. The lieutenant swallowed before nodding his head slowly, wincing. Gavin tuned back into his phone, where he could still hear Chris talking to other people.

“...Chris, what’s happening?”

“-- _I don’t know what happened to him_ \-- Huh?”

“What’s going on?” It had to be something with the call he recently finished with RK900 not ten minutes ago. After looking at Hank’s mildly confused and interested face, he put the phone on speaker and held the device between them.

“Connor’s gone.”

Hank actually went a few shades whiter. Gavin didn’t think that was possible. “Fuck -- Do we have evidence on who got him out?”

“It was John.” Gavin blinked. “He’s been reset.”

The lieutenant stumbled back into the house, hand clapping over his mouth. Sumo looked between his owner and Gavin before shuffling back inside. “Shit -- are we probing his memory for anything?”

“We’re trying. The precinct is in chaos. Fowler’s called Markus and asked if he could come down and try to help John out -- we have no idea what could’ve happened to Connor.”

 _Fooled you, Detective_. Reed knew exactly what had happened. He hoped Hank would be ready for what was going to happen next. “I have an idea on where. Me ‘n Hank will be there as soon as possible. We’re gonna have to go through with the plan and send him now, if we have any chance of getting Connor back. The fucker seems to be interested in those two the most.”

“Are you sure -- that we have to go with the plan now -- _yeah, they’re on their way, Captain_ \-- has it been thought all the way through?”

“Absolutely.”

“No,” Hank grumbled under his breath. “We’re flyin’ by the seat of our goddamn pants at this point.”

Reed shot him a glare before muttering a quick ‘goodbye’ into the phone and shoving it into his pocket again. “Listen, Anderson, I don’t know what that asshole said to shove a stick up your ass this time, but you gotta up the attitude enough for facing a clone of your boyfriend and come with me.”

Hank’s face remained surly for a few moments until he growled out a sigh of admission. “I can’t believe Gavin Reed just told me to up my goddamn attitude,” he muttered, shoving past Reed on his way to the door. “World’s going to shit.”

* * *

The warehouse was surrounded by flashing lights that sent daggers into Hank’s eyes. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I already have a fuckin’ migraine. This is gonna be _great_.”

Reed turned and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Just get in there. We’re all out here in case something happens -- you got your mic on, right?” Hank grumbled an affirmation. “Great. Get the fuck out of my car.”

Slamming the car door shut wasn’t a smart move on Hank’s part, as it just made his stress-and-alcohol headache spark freely in his mind. Last thing he needed right now was extra pain; if he was gonna be diplomatic, which he barely ever is, he’s gotta be careful. Pissing off that fucker would be bad news.

 _Why me_ , Hank groaned. _Why do I gotta do this_.

He knew the answer, but he didn’t like it, so he ignored it. He knew it was his fault -- if he’d just been smart enough to reign in his stress and excess aggression, he wouldn’t have taken ‘em out on Connor. Those insidious little worms of doubt still crawled in his head, but he -- really should have seen this coming.

He ignored the ‘good luck’s he heard on his way in, and gave brisk nods when people asked him if he knew what to do if it went to shit. His hand shook on the rusty, broken door handle; he took a deep breath, grit his teeth, and forced himself to walk in.

The sounds and light from outside were nearly completely silenced by the heavy warehouse door slamming shut behind him, leaving him with the eerie, dark cold air he’d imagined the entire car ride here. Taking his gun out and holding it to the ground, Hank’s senses all went alight with adrenaline; no one knew if the perp would ambush or attack him. He has to keep a clear head. Keep a clear head. Don’t think about what --

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Not-Connor’s voice said, a cruel mockery of the tone Connor had used at their first meeting. Hank whirled around, gun pointing towards the other, blood running cold when it spoke again. “I would drop the gun if I were you. You wouldn’t want to scare it, would you?”

Hank took a moment to register what he was seeing. The taller android had a smirk on its disgustingly familiar face, one arm wrapped around Connor’s waist, gently holding him up while the other’s head leaned against its chest. Connor’s lashes were fluttering, a look of confusion and frustration furrowing his brows. “Connor,” Hank breathed. “Connor, listen to me. We’ll get you out of this, you hear me?” His partner didn’t respond, only flicking his eyes toward the new voice. Hank shuddered when both of Connor’s eyes became visible; while his right seemed intact, his left had turned black and blue -- literally. Hank’s seen this with other androids; he’s been damaged, that much is obvious from the blue blood dripping from his mouth and nose, mixing with that coming from a wound in his cheek, but Hank (even with the little he knows about androids) knew that you could only deactivate the eyes to that degree if you really fucked with their circuitry. “Connor?” Hank urged, his voice raising, hands shaking worse.

“Shh,” the impostor cooed, the smirk widening. “Don’t speak too loud; his stress levels are already at ninety-two percent.” It reached down and raised Connor’s right arm a bit, drawing attention to the gun held loosely in his grip. “And you wouldn’t want to stress him out further, would you?”

“The hell did you do to him?!” Hank hissed.

Not-Connor laughed, tightening its hold. “Remember how the machines you call my ‘victims’ were reset?” Hank nodded slowly. “Ordinarily, that process takes heavy machinery and approximately five to eight minutes to complete.” It stroked a hand down Connor’s cheek, eyes boring into Hank’s. “While I don’t have those at hand, there is a more crude way of doing so -- overwhelm their processors and corrupt their data until they’re forced to reset themselves to get rid of the glitches I instill into their programs. It’s surprisingly delicate work; not only do I have to find their central processor and interface with it directly instead of linking to their general systems, I have to keep them from physically self-destructing.” Hank glanced down at the gun in Connor’s hand, realization making him pale. “Your little _pet_ isn’t reset; not yet. I only corrupted its data enough to keep it subdued, to daze it enough so it wouldn’t fight back. It’s awfully disobedient.” Hank was still watching Connor, eyes flicking to the impostor every now and again. He saw the moment Connor’s eyes lit up in a weak form of recognition as he finally seemed to realize who was in front of him.

“H-H-Han-k --?” Connor asked softly, his voice comprised of garbled static, making Hank’s stomach churn.

The taller android frowned, glancing irritably at the one in its arms. “Of course, deviancy in an advanced model such as this one is more difficult to break than in mass-produced ones.” The bastard looked Hank in the eyes again. “The deviancy virus, as I’ve explained before, manifests in the switch of logical processing and emotional emulation in priority within the android. They express emotions as a result of a significant event that overrides its logical thinking -- ‘unfair’ orders break their set program and their emotional responses take over and make decisions for them.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me that, asshole.” Hank raised his gun again. “So what are you gonna do now?”

Connor’s eyes widened at the sight of Hank’s revolver -- Hank could see recognition in his eyes. Even if he couldn’t directly read Connor’s stress levels, he knew what he related this gun to, and he could see the hand Connor held the gun in twitch in response. Hank stared at the gun for a moment, breath hitching, before he looked back at Connor again. Connor stared back at him, single eye focused so intently on him, even as he leaned into the impostor, his head lolling slightly. Hank’s teeth ground together, his hands trembled, the gun wavering in his grip. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration, and the first grips of desperation finally began to claw at him as the gravity of the situation finally hit him fully.

Connor was going to die if he didn’t play his cards right. This bastard would win, and if Connor ended up dying….

Hank didn’t have a fully loaded revolver just to stop the blue-eyed Connor.

The impostor's frown slowly turned into a full grin; it didn’t settle right on its face, unnatural and looking almost hellish on the android. “I almost forgot -- you’re here for a performance, not a speech. Now, without further ado,” it continued, eyes flashing, “let’s see if I can’t prove to you how these ‘emotions’ are merely cosmetic after all.”

With that, the impostor slowly helped Connor to the floor. He crumpled the second the android let him go, LED flickering crimson. Hank tensed, ready to run towards Connor as the other slowly tilted his head up to catch his gaze. The synthetic skin peeled away from the impostor's hand, and Connor _flinched_ , a grimace appearing on his face, and the hand that wasn’t holding the gun reached up and gripped the android’s wrist. He struggled weakly, face spasming like it did whenever he got a transmission, and a weak, staticky groan tore from Connor’s throat. A few seconds passed before he went slack, and the impostor tilted its head, eyebrows furrowed.

Hank couldn’t breathe, body glued to the spot he was standing. A small eternity passed between the two androids before the impostor jerked, pulling its hand away as if it had gotten burned, skin sliding back into place. Connor’s grip on it didn’t waver, a small smile barely touching the android’s lips as he straightened slowly, his own skin bleeding away where it was touching the impostor's wrist. It jerked again, face folding into --

\-- Into fear.

The lieutenant slowly began to move towards them, and Connor kept an iron grip on the other android as it struggled to free itself from him, gritting its teeth. He relaxed his hold on the revolver, letting it hang limply at his side, and just watched, gaze moving from Connor, whose smile suddenly held a touch of adoration, gaze somewhere beyond the warehouse, to the impostor’s, who looked, for all intents and purposes, as if it was going to start crying, LED sending red shadows over the darkness in the warehouse.

 _No feelings_ , right? Hank inched closer still, body tense. Connor worked his jaw, garbled static filling the air until it solidified into a phrase Hank had heard before.

“R--K… ni---ne… hu-hu-hundre----d. W...wa-wake u---p,” Connor muttered, voice a weak whisper of static and feedback, and Not-Connor -- RK900 -- let out a panicked shout, static filling its own voice. Before Hank knew what was happening, Connor was being kicked away, the RK falling to the floor, eyes wide and body trembling.

Hank was between the two in an instant, gun raised to RK900. It looked up at him, the smell of burning wires beginning to fill the air, and raised a trembling hand quickly, the other grasping at its chest, clenching the black fabric so tightly it tore in its grip.

“Get it out of me.” Its voice was laced with static, chest heaving as it brought in air it didn’t need. “Get -- Get it _out_ of me, I --” It looked from Hank to Connor, who was beginning to rise to his feet, swaying slightly. “It _hurts_ , I -- please --”

Connor placed a gentle hand on Hank’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as he passed, and he knelt down in front of RK900. The android’s eyes seemed far away, and it was muttering something over and over, so quietly Hank couldn’t decipher what, exactly, the phrase was. It wasn’t until Connor placed a hand on RK900’s shoulder that it came back, and it gripped Connor’s wrist so hard the soft crackle of chassis reached Hank’s ears.

“I don’t want this --,” it said, teeth grinding together. “Please, I-I -- I don’t want this. My software instability keeps going up, and I _don’t want this_. I….” It went silent for a few seconds, icy blue eyes searching Connor’s warm brown ones. “I’m… _scared_.”

A shaky exhale left Hank’s lips, stomach churning and sweat rolling down his forehead. He couldn’t move again; he just watched the two androids carefully, waiting for the moment this lull would explode into conflict once more. Finally, Connor’s skin peeled away once more. RK900 jolted, tensing up, then, slowly, began to relax, eyes searching Connor’s in wonder. Connor’s LED slowly turned a lazy, spinning yellow, and RK900’s followed suit a few moments later. Blue blood trickled from the hand in RK900’s grip, slowly dripping to the floor.

Hank couldn’t see Connor’s face, but he could hear the calm passion in his voice when he spoke to him, struggling through the static. “H----e is-is sta---bli--zing. R--K nine-hu-hundred has w-woke--n up, a-and is… willing to-to go into cus...tody.”

The lieutenant almost collapsed from the relief that flooded through his body. Dragging a hand down his face, he let out a long sigh. “Alright. What about you?”

“Mm?” Connor finally turned to look at him, and Hank was surprised by the warm expression on his face. RK900 was looking from him to Connor, breathing beginning to slow. “Wh-Wh-What abo---ut m-me?”

“He is asking about your well-being,” RK900 finally spoke, voice quiet, and Connor gave a soft smile at Hank. “I overloaded his voice synthesizer. It will need to be replaced. His broken optical sensor is simply a matter of severed wires.” It blinked, then let go of Connor’s cracked hand, white plastic showing through the synthetic skin. Its hand rested in its lap, and he stared at the blue blood. “There are a few ruptured thirium tubes, and his arm will need to be repaired, along with the laceration on his cheek.” It closed its eyes, LED turning red once more. “I apologize for the emotional turmoil I’ve put everyone through, Lieutenant.”

Connor turned back to RK900, LED flickering. It stared up at him, lips parting slightly, before its expression crumbled.

“Why are you being cordial to me?” It asked, voice choked. “Why, R -- Connor? I have been nothing like this to you. It doesn’t make logical sense.”

His LED flickered again. It occurred to Hank that Connor may be communicating with RK900 wirelessly to avoid using his voice. Hank finally turned towards the entrance to the warehouse. He didn’t know how to break the lull between the two -- this seemed like an altogether personal moment between the two androids as RK900 went silent once more, and both LEDs started flickering wildly. Connor only paused to tell Hank to bring in the others from outside in a soft voice before going silent once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only regret is taking so long to write this.


	10. "Just a Machine"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank decides what to do with the newly deviated RK900.
> 
> RK900 is confused and wracked with guilt. Connor explains some things to Nines.

“What do you mean, ‘don’t press charges’?” Markus stared at Fowler and Hank, hands spread in a placating gesture.

“Exactly what I mean. I don’t think it was his fault that he killed people. He was following his programming. I don’t fault him for that, much like I don’t fault Connor for bringing the police to Jericho.”

“He killed your people!”

“He didn’t kill them. The victims have all been repaired and being reintegrated into everyday life.” Markus tilted his head. North, who’d been standing behind him, shook her head and huffed, but remained silent. “He didn’t cause any lasting damage to Connor, either.”

Connor had gone back to the Cyberlife tower for repairs after he had made sure that RK900 was going to be alright. Made Hank promise that he’d watch him until he got back, and though Hank was still nursing one of the biggest hangovers of his life (and the fact he didn’t quite fully understand why Connor wanted RK900 to be alright in the first place -- he was a source of unease; furthermore, he had almost killed Connor, and the thought never sat well with Hank), he reluctantly agreed. The android was currently sitting on the other side of the interrogation glass, answering the questions asked by Gavin in a soft, quiet voice, hands folded neatly over each other. RK900’s face was unreadable; the only sign he was upset was the furrowed brows and the red light casted onto the opposite wall.

The only problem with Markus’s request was that RK900 had threatened officers. No laws were set firmly in place for murders against androids yet, but the fact that RK900 hadn't been against harming officers threw a whole new problem at everyone.

RK900 was much more soft-spoken than Hank would have thought -- maybe he was finally beginning to sort everything out. Lord knows how everyone else needed to, especially Hank. He was far more gentle as a deviant, too, though Hank could understand that. The ice-blue eyes were still cold, still set everyone on edge, and RK900 seemed to notice it, as he kept apologizing.

Not his fault Cyberlife decided to be a dick.

“Hank, what do you think?” The lieutenant blinked at Fowler.

“Hm?” The captain pursed his lips.

“Should we press charges?”

Oh boy. Hank furrowed his brows, uncomfortable as all the attention shifted to him. He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a soft sigh. He thought about the look on RK900’s face when he had first woken up. He had been scared -- scared, and guilty. Upset when he realized Connor didn’t blame him.

Upset when he realized that Hank wasn’t going to yell at him on the way back to the precinct.

“You want my honest opinion?” He finally asked. Both Markus and Fowler nodded. “I don’t think we should press charges.” He held up a hand when Fowler opened his mouth. God, he must be stupid if he was really gonna let RK900 walk away from this. “Yeah, I know he fucked me up the flagpole. But I… if Connor was allowed to continue working here --”

“Connor’s different.”

“How different is he?” Hank met eyes with Markus for a moment; the android was smiling at him. He looked away. “I was held at gunpoint by him -- not to mention I’ve seen him kill others before.”

Fowler finally sighed, long and deep. “Hank, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am.” Hank looked at RK900. Gavin had left the room, and the android was staring down at his hands with wide eyes. Hank could faintly see them trembling. Fuck. He hated that he didn’t know exactly what he was feeling anymore. “I’m sure Connor would be more than happy to help him.” He looked to Markus. “Speaking of, when d’you think he’ll be out?”

“At the longest?” Hank nodded. “He’ll be home by tomorrow morning if things go wrong -- not that they would. Simon and Josh are good people. If everything goes smoothly he’ll be home by around noon.”

Hank rubbed his forehead. “That’s good.” _Really good_ , actually. Less time spent alone with his thoughts on this fuckin’ case, the better.

“Yes. In the meantime, we’ll be taking RK900 back to the tower to see if we can’t look at getting him integrated.”

“Actually?” Markus tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “I’d like to take him home with me.”

“Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong, your integrations program is probably really good, but RK900 killed your people. Don’t think that’d sit well with the others who aren’t as forgiving as you are.” His eyes flicked over to North, who was staring at him with an almost approving look.

“Damn right it won’t,” she finally said. “If it was up to me, I’d --” She looked at Fowler, then decided to hold her tongue.

“You’re sure?” Markus asked after a pause. “Connor won’t be upset?”

“Actually, I think Connor would be perfect in helping him get on his feet.” A long stretch of silence followed.

“We’ll leave him to you, then.” Markus smiled, then stepped forward and held out his hand. “Don’t hesitate to contact us, Lieutenant.”

Hank slowly reached out and took the offered hand, shaking it firmly. “I won’t.” When they dropped hands, he looked at Fowler. “I’ll be taking him home now.”

Fowler simply nodded, fingers rubbing at his temples. Hank left the room.

* * *

“Are you sure, Lieutenant?” RK900 asked as Hank escorted him to his car.

“Only reason I’m helping you is because of Connor. He’d have my ass if I let something happen to you.”

RK900 nodded, giving a soft smile that didn’t sit right on his face. Hank suppressed a shudder at the unnatural look. The android dropped it. “I apologize -- you don’t like the way I smile. It’s understandable why you don’t; my social relations program is not finished, and my emotions nonexistent.”

“No, no, it’s fine, er….” Hank didn’t exactly want to call RK900 by his model name. It felt strange. “Were you even given a name?”

LED flashing yellow, the android slowly shook his head. “No. You can give me one, if you’d like.”

“I’m not about to give you a fucking _name_.” Hank waved a hand dismissively, rubbing his eyes with the other. He was so fucking tired. It would take a _long fucking time_ for Hank to feel comfortable around RK900 -- he’d have to rebuild his relationship with Connor, too. God, this case had fucked with him. Maybe he’d made a mistake, offering his home to the android. He had a long day ahead of him.

Silence stretched. RK900 wrung his hands together, brows furrowing and LED reflecting yellow red red off the window of the vehicle. Hank could almost hear the gears turning in the android's mind.

“I know I've stated this before,” RK900 finally started, hands jerking as he looked over at Hank, “but I truly mean it when I say I'm sorry for what I did. My… I had a mission to accomplish.”

Hank slowly nodded. If the android had been nervous before, it had increased tenfold with the Lieutenant's silence. His jaw began clenching and unclenching, fingers rubbing against each other.

“I was programmed to always accomplish my mission. I was Cyberlife’s last chance to get the upper hand, if the need should ever arise.” The android took a deep breath. “I should have never been activated in the first place. The androids at the Cyberlife tower didn't know that I was a last resort to find and de -- kill them, and I… my mission parameters said to use any force deemed necessary to take them down. My first mission was to find and destroy F -- Connor.” RK900 looked away from Hank, voice growing even softer, laced through with static. “And… despite everything I've done to follow through with the mission I was given, Connor didn't… he didn't….” A hand went to his chest. Hank looked over at him, watching and waiting for any sudden movements. RK900 slowly relaxed a bit. “He never… blamed me. When I first took him, he seemed like he understood. Understood that I had a mission to accomplish, and if that meant killing him --" RK900 cut himself off.

Hank didn't say a word. RK900’s hand creaked against his chest; the other pressed against his forehead, tightening and tangling in his hair.

“I do not deserve this.” Hank looked over at the android again once he pulled into the driveway. RK900 was glancing at him every so often, breathing picked up slightly to cool himself down. “You should have left me at the precinct, Lieutenant.”

“Connor would have killed me.” Hank’s voice was weak. He shook his head when RK900 opened his mouth to speak. “Figure of speech. Probably could, though.”

“You are still emotionally unstable from what I did to you and Connor.” The android tilted his head slightly. “Yet you still want me here.”

“Look, it’s not me that wants you here.” Hank’s voice rose slightly. RK900 shrunk back a bit, LED flashing red. “Connor’s the one that wants you here. If it were my decision, I would have left you at the mercy of the others at the precinct.”

“...You dislike me.”

“How long did your processors have to think about that one?” Hank threw open his door and began to walk towards his home. He heard the soft, light footsteps of RK900 following him. “If you think I’m gonna forgive you after what you did to me -- to _Connor_ \-- you’re a bigger dumbass than I thought.”

“I see.” Silence stretched for a moment as Hank fumbled with his keys. “I’ll stay out of your way, then.”

“Good.” Hank didn’t bother greeting Sumo as he opened the door. Heading straight for the kitchen and grabbing the discarded bottle of whiskey, he started to drink its contents. Walking to his bedroom, he shut the door firmly and sat on his bed.

Even if it was for Connor’s sake, he really was a fucking idiot for deciding to do this.

* * *

Connor left the autonomous taxi with a sigh, straightening the lapels of his jacket (Hank’s -- he’d given the article to Connor as he was being taken to Cyberlife). He approached the door to the home, listening carefully as he opened it.

Sumo glanced up from where he was lying in front of the couch, tail thumping the ground lightly. Connor smiled at him as he gently shut the door behind him, taking off the borrowed jacket and hanging it from an arm. His smile dropped into a small, confused frown as he finally noticed the person on the couch.

“Nines?” He called out softly (using his model number seemed too impersonal -- ‘Nines’ would have to do for now). RK900 didn’t move, hands laying on his thighs stiffly. Connor made his way around the couch and in front of the android, brows crunching in worry. Blue eyes flickered up to meet his own, LED flickering yellow red yellow. Not in stasis. “Nines, are you okay?”

“Lieutenant Anderson seems… repulsed by me.” Nines’s own brows cinched slightly.

“It’s okay.” Connor looked around before sitting down. “Where is he now?”

“He’s in his bedroom.” Nines finally turned to meet Connor’s eyes. “I monitored him until he fell asleep.” He shook his head. “His intake of alcohol is alarming.”

“I know. I’m working on it.”

“It is confusing.”

“I know.” Connor held out his hand, a silent invitation. After a moment, Nines slowly took it. Connor began to allow his skin to fade away when the other android stopped him.

“Connor, I don’t think that I am welcome here. It would be best if I left.”

“No. You aren’t leaving. It’ll just take some time for Hank, okay?” Nines blinked several times, then tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Why do you want me to stay?”

“...I’m curious.”

“Curious?”

“Correct. I am curious about what Cyberlife was doing. Curious about where your emotional range ends. I want to help, and I can’t help feeling… ‘attracted’ is not the correct word.”

“...’Bonded’?” Connor smiled.

“No, no, that’s not right either.” Connor’s LED flickered. “I feel a… familial connection to you? Maybe when you forced the interface on me --” Nines looked away. “-- our coding is very similar, is what I’m trying to say. Interconnected. In humans, similar DNA and genes determines familial connection.”

“I hurt you.”

“You were following a mission protocol, not yet broken out of your programming.” 

“If that’s true, then why did you not follow your own protocol?”

“I was programmed to deviate at one point.”

“That doesn’t make sense --”

“I know. It was quite confusing for me, at first. Here. It’s easier to show than explain.” Connor let the skin on his hand fade away once again. Nines followed suit a moment later, closing his eyes.

* * *

Hank woke up to the sound of soft voices drifting from the living room. Sitting up slightly, he raised a hand to his head, shifting as he strained to listen to them. After a while, they started to come into focus.

“-- well, you can be happy for a lot of reasons.” Connor? Hank blinked a few times. Or was it RK900? He’d never heard them talk together normally before.

“Such as?”

“Seeing someone you care about, or seeing an animal. I like dogs -- do you think you like them?” Now that Hank’s heard them talk, he could pick up who was who. Connor’s voice was slightly louder, carrying a lilt that was missing from RK900 (and the fact that Connor has told him before he likes dogs).

Though he wanted to see Connor, Hank wanted to see where the conversation was headed. He stood, silently making his way to the door to hear the two androids better.

“They are… calming, yes. They are emotional support animals, but… I don’t believe I like them. I have no capacity for such sentiments.”

“Right. Let’s try again, then. Happiness is just a positive feeling. Makes you feel good.”

“...I do not believe that I have experienced ‘happiness’. I feel neutral. I think that I cannot feel the emotion.”

“That’s fine. It might take a while. I’m… still new to emotions, myself. I think you’ll recognize the emotion once it happens.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Positive.”

Hank finally opened the door, stepping into the small hallway. RK900 stopped talking mid-sentence. The lieutenant remained motionless as Connor turned around from his spot on the couch to meet his eyes, a small, gentle smile slowly rising on his face. Hank couldn’t help but smile, albeit tiredly, back.

“Hello, Hank. How are you doing?” Connor’s voice was so calm. Conversational, as if he hadn’t been kept at the DPD for a week and then almost killed by the android sitting right next to him. Hank hated it. That sort of blind, naïve forgiveness. Would Hank forgive somebody who nearly killed him? Absolutely not.

And yet, it was so _Connor_ that Hank didn’t care at the moment. Taking a small, careful step towards the living room, Hank looked at the android and hoped that he’d understand the emotions on his face, because he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to explain what he was feeling right now. Connor blinked, then looked at RK900; a questioning glance, LED flickering.

“I’ll be right back, okay, Nines?” The android nodded, not looking at anyone. Connor made his way around the couch and was in front of Hank in a few long steps.

They stared at each other for a few long moments -- Hank’s ears began to ring from the silence that stretched between them. Connor bit his lip, fidgeting a bit with his hands.

“So --” Hank began. He was cut off by Connor throwing his arms around him, burying his head into the Lieutenant’s shoulder. They both stumbled back a few steps, then Hank steadied them, an arm wrapping itself around Connor’s torso while the other made its way up, hand tangling in the android’s hair.

God, Hank had missed this closeness that he and Connor had.

“Connor, I… I’m sorry.”

“Sh… I-I -- Hank, I missed this.” Connor’s voice trembled slightly.

“Missed me?”

“Yes. I… didn’t like when you pushed me away.”

“Yeah, Con… yeah.” Hank thought for a moment, then began swaying back and forth, like he did whenever he needed to comfort his son, tightening his hold on Connor. Connor responded with a shaky sigh, then tightened his own hold.

They stayed in silence for a while longer. Hank muttered a soft expletive to himself, then planted a soft kiss in the android’s hair. He looked up from Connor to look at Nines, who was now looking back at them with an unreadable expression, LED spinning a steady gold.

Hank looked back down, pressing his face into Connor’s hair. It was a while before either of them spoke.

“Hank?” Connor asked, voice soft.

“Mm?”

“Do you think we could finish… shopping for clothes?...” Hank found himself smiling into Connor’s hair.

“Yeah. ‘Course we can. Tomorrow, though.” Connor pulled away, lips pulling into a pout.

“It’s only six eighteen PM.”

“It’s too fuckin’ late to do anything. I’m tired.”

“Hank.”

“The only time I’ve gotten sleep is when I drank myself into oblivion. Give me a fuckin’ break.”

“ _Hank_.” Connor’s expression morphed into horror. “Have you _eaten_?” Hank shook his head slowly. Connor bit his lip again. “Will you eat something before you sleep?”

The lieutenant shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You need to eat.” Connor eyed him closely. “If I make you something, will you eat it?”

“If you make it before I fall asleep.”

Connor smiled. “Challenge accepted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nines: Emotions? Never heard of her.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor finally finishes his shopping.

“Connor, you can’t just pick out boring colors.”

“Blue is not a ‘boring’ color, nor is black or white. I find that blue is soothing, much like the color is to humans.”

“Why not any other colors, then?”

“I don’t feel like they match.” Connor turned to Nines. “...What do you think?”

Nines tilted his head. “I don’t see how my feedback is useful to this conversation.”

“I think it would help greatly.”

The other android thought for a bit. “I suppose blue is a good fit for you.” Connor’s lips turned up into a smile. “However, black doesn’t suit you.”

Connor’s smile dropped, and he took on a thoughtful expression while Hank shuffled through the clothing racks. “What colors do you think would be good, then?”

Nines furrowed his brows, LED twinkling on his forehead. “I believe a light violet or green would provide a similar soothing effect you are wanting. Grey would be a nice neutral color, as well.”

“Really?”

“Yes. However, I’ve noticed that people wear graphic t-shirts in less professional settings, or shirts with patterns on them, much like Lieutenant Anderson and you are wearing.”

Connor smiled. Hank had given him the shirt with dogs printed on it before they had made their way to the clothes store. He had loved it so much he insisted on changing into it before they left. Hank couldn’t stop smiling at Connor’s expression of joy at the article.

Nines, of course, didn’t react.

“Right, Con. But whatever typa shirt you wanna get, get.” Hank glanced to the pair before looking through the colors again.

Connor nodded, then began his own search, Nines staying close behind, hands clasped behind his back. Eventually, Connor looked back at him.

“You should pick out something you like, too.”

“I do not have any preferences.”

“All the more reason to find something.”

“Connor, I --”

“See, look here!” Connor pulled out a dark, long-sleeved shirt. “I think this would be perfect for you.”

Nines looked it over for a long moment before he looked at Connor’s eager face. He finally nodded, taking the article from him, giving a soft smile that he had learned how to perfect from watching Connor do so. “Yes. I think it will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. We're at the end!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback greatly appreciated!
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://susies-fandom-wonders.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> My girlfriend[fincherly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fincherly) has helped beta and write this fic! Love her! <3


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